


Defenseless

by AllintheEyes



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Best Friends, Canon Compliant, Canon Timeline, Divorce, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Nudity, Oral Sex, Partners to Lovers, Partnership, Sad and Happy, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Shower Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Soulmates, Tension, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 88,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26558473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllintheEyes/pseuds/AllintheEyes
Summary: Begins five days after the events of the season 1 finale 'Slaves.' The story will continue through later seasons (specifically seasons 6-8). Elliot contemplates his feelings towards his partner and things become more complicated when he walks in on her in the locker room. Chapters will alternate between Elliot and Olivia's perspectives.
Relationships: Olivia Benson/Elliot Stabler
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	1. Divine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot's P.O.V.

_Late Spring of the Year 2000 / 5:56 a.m._

Three days had passed since his psychological exam. Five days had passed since he and Olivia had pulled the caged girl from underneath the bed. He looked at his white knuckles as they gripped on his steering wheel and he thought about how they were the same fingers that playfully brushed the side of Olivia’s face. Monique and Olivia had been caught in fits of laughter, so the gesture slipped passed like a sleight of hand. How could they, himself included, laugh after closing a case like that? He squeezed the steering wheel harder- the same fingers that had clawed on the bed frame like life depended on them, because _it_ did. 

His hands scared him sometimes, to think of what they could _do_ , what they could _destroy,_ if he gave in to them. He flicked on the stereo because it was too early for his thoughts. He was driving to work hours earlier than he needed to be. There was no active case. The five-day lull was causing him to grow restless. He needed that pager to ring, in the dead of night, so he didn’t have to lie awake and hate himself for not being at ease. His hands touched his wife, but his eyes were occupied with unspeakable sights- _occupational hazard._ He wondered if she sensed how empty he was. She never indicated that she did. She just smiled into his neck like he was the same boy she first caught eyes for in lockered hallways. 

He could have had breakfast with his kids but instead he was slamming on the brake as an early morning jogger dashed across his intersection. All he could think was how she could be their next call. He knew better than anyone that women jogging alone before sunrise was a recipe for disaster. Maureen had signed up for cross country. 

He took the final turn towards the precinct and debated why he had come. He reasoned with himself that maybe an early morning workout would help alleviate the acid building in his muscles. He wasn’t sure when a punching bag took priority over pancakes and orange juice. He told himself he was being distant with his family because of the case, because of the evaluation. He knew once he was cleared some ease would return. _If he was cleared._ He’d told that shrink how he thought about getting away with murder. _Christ._

He wasn’t sure when he started using the lord’s name in vain either. Perhaps when he told that suspect that he had been trying to _break in_ Olivia for months. He hated himself for how he used her as a chess piece to relate to scumbags. He never intended to do it, but sometimes sexualizing her for the sake of a confession came too easy to him. He never had these _problems_ with Alfonso. He wondered how Florida was treating his old partner, he was probably drinking orange juice spiked with vodka. He smiled at the notion. 

He didn’t like that his mind was grouping _problems_ and Olivia together. Olivia was not a problem. In fact he had never worked so well with someone his entire time on the force. When Cragen first told him they were bringing on a female detective he shifted in his shoes because he knew he would be saddled with her. Cragen wasn’t going to let him be a lone ranger forever. Munch congratulated him and he cursed himself. He and Kathy had barely survived Jo Marlowe. He prayed she would be ugly. _He was a bastard._

She wasn’t ugly. Every suspect, colleague, and random passerby on the street liked to remind him of that fact. It wasn’t a _problem_ though. Not like how Jo Marlowe had been a _problem._

After his first day with Olivia, Kathy stood with her hip against their scratched sink and asked about his new partner. 

“Is she pretty?” Kathy smiled in a soft and even tone. Her fingers were sudsy from doing the dishes from their meatloaf dinner. He hated meatloaf. The recipe had been his mothers and he swore sometimes Kathy made it just to pick at him for working too many hours. 

He shrugged as he came behind her and pressed his chest to her back. He let his fingers take the scrub brush and tangle with hers as a way of communicating his loyalty. He kissed her temple and he could feel her smile. 

“I guess that’s all I need to know,” Kathy said as she glanced down the hallway towards their children's bedrooms, before turning to kiss him, _claiming him_. As their lips met Elliot thought about how small and fragile Olivia’s fingers had felt in his hand when he shook them for the first time. 

_“Olivia Benson, nice to meet you,” she had said._

_“Elliot Stabler,” he had responded, and he could see the way her eyes faltered when he didn’t return the nicety. Her eyes had landed on his gold band and it was eerie the way he could see her process and internalize that fact in less than three seconds._

_Nice_ was not the word he would use to describe having her enter his life.

~

_16th Precinct Locker Room / 6:15 a.m._

Elliot entered the squad-room. He noted how the lights were still off. The paired desks sat unattended. He was the first one in. Maybe Cragen was able to catch some shut eye. He wondered if one day he would end up the same as his captain. Alone and battling a bottle. Elliot laughed to himself, alcoholism might be the only thing he didn’t have going against him. It was his damn _hands._

Then he caught himself allowing Olivia to slip into his thoughts again. He hoped to never find her alone and battling a bottle in ten years. Then he realized it was bold of him to assume he would have contact with her in ten years. Most didn’t last two years in this unit, and they were already coming up on that as partners. Nevertheless, he found himself hoping that in ten years he would still be passing her coffee and seeing her face. He never wished that with Jo or with Alfonso. He tried not to ponder that for long. Alcoholism was an easier thought. 

A few months into their partnership she told him passing details about her mother and it was around month six when she let the bomb of her father drop. It was in that moment that he understood her more than he thought he already had. She kept revealing more layers with each month and as time kept passing, he realized all his assumptions about what his partnership with her would be like had been wrong. So _wrong._

Olivia was not a _problem. Not like Jo had been._ Olivia had this morality about her that let him rest assured the fate of his marriage was in safe and capable hands. 

Olivia had _capable_ hands. He had his doubts when he shook those frail fingers for the first time, but she quickly showed him she needed no protection from anyone. She could go toe to toe with the scum of the earth and never wavered in her convictions. She was a better shot than most of the department and she had no qualms about whipping their squad car through the busy streets of Manhattan. He was a prick for expecting anything less, just because she was a _woman_. 

Olivia was a woman. Sometimes that really tripped him up. She was a woman, and she was his partner and it was his job to make sure she wasn’t injured on the job. To make sure her _body_ met no harm. 

All the mangled and abused bodies they saw everyday haunted his sleeping and waking hours. He tried not to, but he always saw his _wife, his daughters_. He hated that he couldn’t battle off the parallels, but for years his mind would go there and then he couldn’t sleep. 

Once he started working with Olivia, he began to see her. She would stand beside him and examine the crime scene photos, so close he could smell her minty shampoo and feel the brush of her oversized suits. He could see the way her lip would quiver just a fraction and it was almost as if he could feel her stomach flip. He knew she saw herself too.

That was one of the things he had never expected, how _protective_ he would become and how quickly it happened. Jo Marlowe had been his only other female partner and he was a uniform back then. He didn’t work Special Victims when he had been partnered with her. He had never been protective of Jo. Jo was his senior, she _broke him in_. She would pat his shoulder and say _have another drink,_ after a long day of patrol. 

Olivia would give him a forlorn look and say, in almost a whisper, _go see your kids._ God, he was thankful for that, so thankful that she was everything that Jo wasn’t. Olivia wasn’t a _problem_. 

That was the other thing he never expected, that Olivia would be protective of _him._ Protective of his mental wellbeing, protective of his rage, protective of his _marriage_. He saw the way her eyes would shine when he talked about soccer games and holiday plans. At first it confused him because Marlowe had no interest in hearing about what his kids were getting for Christmas, but Olivia wanted to _know._

He realized as she sat in that passenger seat and choked back tears after looking at the man leaning from that window, the man that could have raped her mother. Her mother who was a stumbling down drunk, that Olivia’s eyes shone with curiosity because she had never _known_ a father who would sit on the bleachers and cheer her on at soccer or a mother who would wrap her presents for Christmas morning. When he made the realization it shattered his heart. He wanted to give her all those things she never had. It was a strange compulsion and he realized that the need to show her what was _right_ burned deeply inside him. He wanted to show her what a good father looked like, a good family man. How fucked up was that? He never expected _that._

He swallowed the thought as he dumped his keys on his desk. His eyes hitched on the framed photo of Olivia and her mother that sat on her desk across from him. It was facing him. He wondered if while she was working on paperwork late last night if she couldn’t stomach to look at the photo any longer. She must have forgotten to flip it back around. Now, it was staring at him like a challenge. Elliot knew that framing that photo and placing it on her desk like they had a loving mother-daughter bond must have killed her a little bit inside. He looked at the green-eyed, light complexioned woman and it made his stomach uneasy when he realized Olivia’s sullen brown eyes and silky dark hair had come from the darkness that drove her mother to every drunken rage. He kept having these realizations about Olivia, kept thinking about her and he kept chalking it up to being a _concerned_ partner- a curious partner, just like she was curious about what Lizzie had wanted for Christmas. 

Serena Benson triggered some sort of anger in him. He reached for the frame and firmly turned it around. He hadn’t met the woman, even after almost two years of working with her daughter, but he disliked what he knew about her. She didn’t _protect_ Olivia. Olivia had told him she dated a man twice her age when she was merely sixteen. When the tidbit hit his ears his jaw clenched, and he balled up his fists. His daughter was sixteen and he would kill a man before he’d let her get engaged to someone who could be her father. The thought of a young Olivia dating, _sleeping with,_ a man whose only intention was to take advantage of her, made him want to throw chairs. Serena Benson could burn in hell and he meant that from the bottom of his Catholic heart. 

He sucked in a breath and realized he’d let his thoughts go astray, _again._ He needed a bench press. He pounded up the stairs that led to the locker room and briefly wondered what time Olivia would come in. Had she been sleeping these last five nights? Was she worried about her psych eval? He wondered what she had told that woman about how she copes with the stress of their job. He told that psychiatrist that he goes home and hugs his kids and kisses his wife. Another realization hit him; _Olivia went home to no one._

Elliot opened the locker room door and his stomach jumped to his throat when he realized he wasn’t the only one at the precinct this early. Before him stood his partner. Her back was to him, _her naked back._ Droplets of water raced down the expanse of her spine and dipped into the dimples on her back. Her shoulder blades were pushed back and the water from her freshly washed hair was cascading over her bronzed skin. So much _skin._

She didn’t seem to hear him enter. She was looking down and she was messing with the minute hand on her wristwatch as she adjusted it to her bare body. She hadn’t expected anyone to come in at this hour, she must have been letting her skin dry under the noisy vents in the locker room. 

He knew he should turn around and run for the nearest church and pour holy water over his entire body, but instead he stood there like a damned fool. His eyes kept sweeping over her backside like he was trying to memorize every inch of her exposed skin. 

She looked so _vulnerable, too vulnerable._ Part of him felt this moral obligation to protect her modesty, like the beads of his rosary should shroud her tempting body. 

Then another realization hit him. He walked around Olivia like she was _dead. Suppressing and ignoring_ every indication and implication that she was in fact a desirable woman. He had to keep that line taut, for both their sakes and the line was easier to keep clear when he denied that her body was capable of anything other than doing their job. Her body was his to _protect,_ never to _touch_. But this was too much. He’d successfully spent two years training his mind to see her as his _partner_ , his equal, the person who would take a bullet for him. 

But now he was haunted. The thought of a bullet ripping through that perfect skin made him feel sick. She had proven herself as his equal but in that moment, he couldn’t see her as anything other than a _woman- a fact he thought he could deny until his dying day._

He needed to turn around and retrain his brain but instead his throat betrayed him. 

“Turn around,” he ordered, the words slipped past his mouth like he was living in an alternate timeline. _Jesus Christ._ What was he thinking? If that wasn’t crossing a line, he didn’t know what was? He didn’t cross lines like that, Olivia didn’t cross lines like that. _Saint Olivia_. She wore oversized suits and reminded him day in and day out about his _family._ Good Lord, Jo Marlowe had ruined him from righteousness but with any prayer Olivia would return him to it. No, she’d probably tell him to go straight to hell and add him to the list of men who had failed her. 

He’d been pushing boundaries for months and he knew it. Richard White. He’d shown up at her apartment without invitation, walked in like he owned the place and drank from her orange juice like he’d kissed her mouth and shared her saliva all the time. _Orange juice._ Maybe that’s why he had no interest in drinking it with his kids anymore. _Dammit._

She turned at his command and his stomach flipped. She was facing him now and he was sure he had forgotten how to breathe. 

He took in her face first. The way she looked completely taken off guard. He’d never seen her without composure before. _I’d like your balls in a blender, but ain’t life a bitch._ She always knew what to say but, in that moment, she was rendered speechless and he was a dirty bastard. 

“Elliot.” she almost _squeaked_. Squeaked, the sound would never leave his ears. If she had her gun on her hip, she would shoot him dead, right through the skull and as she did it, she would think of his children, his _wife._ God, he deserved that, but her gun was nowhere in sight. Instead the curves of her hips were in the direct line of his eyes. He found his eyes dipping to the apex of her legs. 

She was all _woman._ The line of manicured dark curls trailed to her opening and...and his mind went there, he plunged right into the hell he’d been warding off. He wanted to know what it would be like to spread those long firm legs open and find out just how long it would take to make her lose composure for good. Brian Cassidy knew. Brian _fucking_ Cassidy. 

Then his eyes trailed from the tops of her legs, up her abdomen until they landed fully on her breasts. He was drinking her in and there was no way to deny it. She was either too shocked to cover herself or she was welcoming him to hell. He knew she was too good for the later. He was just a bastard preying on her vulnerability, no better than the man who was twice her age when she was sixteen. 

Her nipples were the same shade of brown as her eyes and the fact startled him, she was _dark_ all over. They were pebbled from the vents pushing cold air down on her damp skin and he realized that would be the same way they would look if she was _aroused._

Olivia Benson, detective third grade, could handle a gun and an interrogation. She had a body strong enough to pry open a caged woman hidden under a bed, restrain grown men, and climb the rock wall in the department recreation center. Those were the only ways he should be allowed to consider her body, not how her nipples would tighten when she was aroused. 

He was going to hell. 

“What are you...” She began and he noticed how her pulse strained against her throat, how her collarbones glistened with moisture. Then another realization hit him, this was the first time he had considered her body outside of crime scene photos. Her bruised neck and broken clavicle plagued his sleepless nights but, in that moment, he could see in plain sight that she was untouched, unharmed, just standing before him in all of her beauty. She was _beautiful_. Beautiful and _defenseless_ and he knew he would never sleep again but for entirely different reasons. 

She was not a _victim,_ she was his _partner,_ and she was a _woman,_ and he’d just told her to _turn around. Fuck._

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” he exhaled as he ran a hand down his sinning eyes. “I didn’t expect you to be here this early,” he spat out like a child being caught red handed and then because he couldn’t help himself, he removed his hand from his eyes and looked again. She’d always had more control than him, she grabbed a bunched-up t-shirt and was holding it in front of her like a shield. He could still see the triangle between her legs which made him twitch. He stepped closer to her and that was when he knew for sure that he’d lost all rationality. 

_You can look but you can’t touch._ He told himself like he was talking to one of his children at the Bronx Zoo. _You shouldn't even be looking, you bastard,_ the better part of his brain reminded him. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she mumbled as she pressed her eyes shut. He took another step towards her. 

“Elliot, you need to leave,” she said in the tone she took with their suspects. It made him halt in place. Thank God Olivia had a moral compass because his had surely broken, shattered to a million fucking pieces. 

“Right,” he cleared his throat as he flicked his eyes to her one last time. Her eyes had that horrible glossed-over look that she got when she was a million miles away. 

“I’ll go make us some coffee,” he offered as some pathetic peace offering for whatever unrepairable damage he had just caused. _Turn Around._

“You do that,” she said through tight lips and sad eyes. 

_Sad eyes._ He’d caused her eyes to be sad. The same sadness she wore to work the day after having dinner with her mother the night before. He wanted to wrap her into a hug and whisper apologies against her neck. 

He knew he couldn’t do that; he knew she would never let him. He belonged in hell, right next to Serena fucking Benson for being another fuck up in Olivia’s life. 


	2. Decent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olivia's P.O.V.

_6:45 a.m._

The door clicked closed and Olivia exhaled. She took three composing breaths and tried to search for some sort of mantra to repeat in her brain. 

_That didn’t just happen._

_That didn’t just happen._

_That didn’t just happen._

Her breath began to flow at a normal pace, but then she was reminded that it did in fact _happen._ Her shaky fingers fastened clothes over her body as quickly as she could. The last thing she needed was another colleague walking in on her. The thought of it being Munch or, God forbid, Cragen made her pre-workout shake rumble in her stomach. The fact that it had been Elliot didn’t mortify her like the thought of Munch or Cragen did. Instead, it made her veins course with a heat that was making her consider another cold shower. 

She needed to get a grip. Her poor partner was probably sulking in the squad-room, contemplating all his life choices as he watched bulk-ordered, department coffee drip into the pot that needed to be scrubbed clean. What had she been thinking standing in her place of work like she didn’t care who saw her? 5:00 a.m. or not, she thought how she should be marching her _dressed_ body down those stairs and begging Elliot for forgiveness.

_Her poor partner._ She halted in her train of thought. He’d _looked._ Even in all her efforts to defend that man’s morality, she couldn’t let that fact slip. 

_Elliot wouldn’t do that._ Elliot was a good man, a married man, and he always treated her with respect and professionalism. In fact, she’d never had a man on the force treat her with as much faith and confidence as Elliot did. They had a professional working relationship that reaffirmed her confidence that women had an equal place alongside their male counterparts. He was always nothing short of professional. _Almost_ always. 

_Let me walk you up._

_Blink your lights when you get inside._

It wasn’t unprofessional, it was...it was protective. Partners had to be protective, it was the nature of the job. She’d looked back down at him as she exited the car that night several months back, and she couldn’t deny how her veins felt the same way they did now. 

She squeezed her eyes shut and found the imprint of his eyes on her, waiting for her. Almost two years of seamless partnership, and she’d just jeopardized the best working relationship she’d ever had. Sometimes she was convinced she was incapable of not pushing anything good out of her life. She had managed to screw everything up. _Turn Around._

_Or maybe he had?_

_Turn Around?_

_What the hell had he been thinking?_ That wasn’t the partner she knew. Maybe she didn’t know Elliot as well as she thought she did. Maybe she just thought of him the way she wanted to, _needed to-_ some sort of unrealistic standard to hold all men to. Elliot Stabler: defender of children, defender of women, defender of _her._

_Get a grip, Olivia._

She was so used to being mad at herself that she didn’t consider that maybe she should be mad at him. He’d opened that door and saw her standing there. A _professional_ partner would have turned around and never mentioned any kind of indiscretion. Instead he walked in like he had every right to, and he told her to turn around. Cocky bastard. 

_Mad at him._ She decided to see how that would play out. Maybe she should call his wife while she was at it. 

_Hi Kathy, yeah Olivia, your husband’s partner, no he’s fine, he just can’t keep his eyes to himself._

But who should she really be telling on? Him or herself? She was the single woman in the department, and god knows there was enough speculation flying around about who she was taking to bed these days. _Brian Cassidy, definitely her partner Elliot Stabler, maybe Monique Jeffries, hell she’s probably doing Munch too._

She’d heard the rumors. She was sure Elliot had too, but she would shrug them off with full confidence that no one knew what they were talking about. It was not like _that_ with Elliot and she was realizing in that moment how much she prided herself on that. 

After two years of working with Elliot, she was beginning to think she’d finally broken her track record of wanting men she couldn’t have. _Wanting men who could be her father._ She respected Elliot. He shook her hand, and that cold gold band had been reassuring against her fingers. Elliot was firm in who he was. A man of faith, a marine, a husband, and a father. He didn’t need a cheap affair to make him feel complete, not like the man who thought her sixteen-year-old self had breathed new life into him. _A muse._ She didn’t want to be anyone’s muse anymore. She was an officer of the law. Dignified and capable. 

She fastened her slacks and brushed through her hair. She’d forgo makeup today. She grasped her holster, and her glock from her locker. She strapped them onto her body and instantly felt more complete. Her uniform of undesirability. 

She glanced at her reflection in her mirror and couldn’t help but grimace. She couldn’t look at herself the same after _that,_ how was Elliot supposed to? Elliot, who was innocently making coffee. She hoped he was suffering just as much as she was. What was wrong with her? Elliot had probably long-since moved on. He was probably on to thinking about how he needed to mow the lawn this weekend and how Kathleen was going to need braces soon. At least that’s what she hoped Elliot was thinking about, that was what she needed to believe he was thinking about. _Saint Elliot._

But she knew the truth. She knew that Elliot had a streak of rage that would make all the saints shake in their boots. He tried so hard to hide it with that family-man demeanor, but she could see it in the way his jaw would flutter, and his eyes would darken. He would clench those fists of his so hard that the veins on his forearms would ripple. She knew he was a ticking time bomb, and it scared her every day. She kept watchful eyes on him, taking his temperature with a glance, making sure he wasn’t close to boiling. Elliot was a damn good detective, but she could foresee his downfall, and it kept her awake at night. She hoped in ten years time she would still be hitting the streets with him and not talking to him through a Rikers phone with a pane of glass between them. 

She pushed the thought far away. It would never happen, and if it did, it would be because he was defending the defenseless. 

God, how could she justify the worst parts of him? _Because she could see the best parts._ Then she thought about the worst parts of herself and how he was downstairs justifying them with a pot of coffee that neither of them wanted to drink. 

What were the worst parts of her? All of her? That’s surely what her mother thought on most days. Then she remembered she had dinner plans with Serena Benson that evening. It had been a few months since she’d laid eyes on her mother, _not long enough._

She swallowed as she shut the locker and contemplated what she was going to say. With any luck Munch got antsy at home and decided to come in and talk their ears off about the Kennedy assassination. That would be a welcome distraction on this particular morning. 

_Jacqueline Kennedy,_ that’s who her _fiancé_ had told her she reminded him of- so classy and mature for just sixteen. 

She wondered what Elliot thought she looked like. His Better Homes and Gardens family, full of towheaded children, definitely contrasted from her. 

While most girls waited to come into their looks and gained confidence as they grew into them, Olivia lived each year in fear, knowing that with each passing calendar, her face would become more unlovable to her mother. 

Poor Serena Benson. Raising a daughter with dark eyes, dark hair, and sad features that made her look like a _classy_ widow. Sometimes Olivia wished she looked like Kathy Stabler. Maybe that would make her easier to stomach, all blonde and light like the simpler things in life. 

Her skin was burning again. She decided to stop pondering things she had no business thinking about. She needed to bite the bullet and go face him. 

_Mad at him._ That’s how she was going to play this. If she had to feel like a sinner than so should he. Good Catholic Boy. Maybe he’d buy her _actual_ coffee tomorrow to win back her allegiance. _Not that he’d actually lost it._

_Get a grip Olivia._

_~_

_16th Precinct Squad Room / 7:05 a.m._

Her boots, which put her almost at eye level with Elliot, slammed against the wooden staircase, and she took a little pride in making sure her steps sounded extra irritated. As she descended the last step, she scanned the squad room and came to the conclusion that they were _alone._

His eyes lifted from the coffee pot, and she could see his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, like he was holding back the stale donut she knew he consumed to pass the time before she came down. 

“Olivia…” he began, and she could tell from just the sound of her name that he hadn’t been thinking about braces or the lawn mower. She raised her hand in a stop motion, and his eyes latched on to her raised hand like they had latched onto her exposed breasts just minutes beforehand. 

What did that song say? _In a New York minute everything can change_? Well fuck Don Henley, and fuck Don Cragen for partnering her with Elliot Stabler. At least Munch would have joked this situation away if he had been her partner. 

“I don’t want to hear whatever it is you might say,” she said as she grasped the green coffee mug from his offering hand. He had let her borrow the mug on one of the first all-nighter cases they had worked together. 

~

_“I don’t drink coffee” she told him on her first day. He scoffed at her and told her to wait until their first stakeout or case with a dwindling statute of limitations. She didn’t listen to his warning and never brought a mug of her own into the office. She had very few personal belongings on her desk- A picture of her mother that reminded her why she did the job and some folded fortune cookie slips. Chinese take-out was the most sentiment she was capable of. Quick and easy._

_“Take my extra mug; you’re gonna need it,” he said as he watched her eyes droop over their dead leads. She accepted the mug and the department coffee and hadn’t been able to quit either since._

_The first time she washed the mug she noticed the initials carved into the clay of the ceramic. K.S. Kathy Stabler or Kathleen Stabler? One of them had made it in a ceramics class. She felt like her lips never should have touched the rim of that mug, but it had been a year and a half, and Elliot had yet to ask for it back._

_It almost felt like hers now._

_~_

“I was going to say I’m sorry,” he said as his eyes dropped to the hot coffee that she was holding between them. 

“Sorry for what?” she challenged with a scathing voice and a raised eyebrow. _He knew for what. Turn Around._ He swallowed, and she could see his brain searching for a suitable answer. 

“Interrupting,” he landed on with a pointed look directly to her eyes. 

“Interrupting!” Munch’s voice said as he took long strides from the door to the coffee stand. Munch’s entrance jolted Olivia from their staring match, and she felt like she had just dropped all her cards on the table. _Olivia folds._

Elliot’s Adam's apple bobbed again. 

“What are you two early birds doing?” Munch asked in a voice much too enthusiastic for 7:05 in the morning. Elliot’s mouth began to open, but in usual Munch fashion, it became apparent that he wasn’t actually looking for an answer. 

“Slaves to Capitalism!” he said as he shook his head and poured himself coffee between them. Olivia caught Elliot’s eye roll and smirked as her eyes did the same. That was the biggest olive branch she would be extending all day. 

Thank God for John Munch; he’d saved them both. 


	3. Dangerous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot's P.O.V.

_Later That Day / 6:47 p.m._

Elliot watched as Olivia wrapped her red scarf around her neck and grabbed her wallet and keys in her hands. She had her eyes everywhere but on him. She looked to the wall and then to the small cubby locker and then to her desk as if she was trying to remember not to forget something. He was pretty sure what she was forgetting was the conversation they needed to have.

She hadn’t spoken two words to him all day. They caught a date rape that dragged them to Queens to question the victim’s college roommate. It had been the longest car ride Elliot had ever experienced in his life, and he did the commute every day. 

_Why wouldn’t she talk to him? She’d never been shy before._

They’d had over an hour of uninterrupted time in the car, and she decided to flip radio stations the whole time like she was a disk jockey. In fact, the only sound she made was a loud scoff when _New York Minute_ started to play on classic rewind.

He’d tried: _what do you want for lunch? Do you think the Giants will get another shot at the super bowl? Do you think her roommate really slipped her the roofie?_

She’d shrugged at every single question. She wouldn’t even talk about the case.

_Why wouldn’t she talk to him?_ Maybe this was how Kathy felt.

“You heading out?” he asked as he watched her shut down her computer. She flicked her eyes up and nodded.

“Wanna grab a drink?” he asked as Jo Marlowe’s voice rang from the depths of his brain. Olivia had gotten drinks with him all of three times over the last year and a half. Each time Brian Cassidy had been there waiting for him to pack it up and go home to his wife so he could get his hands on Olivia. Elliot didn’t even like hard liquor, but he’d kept trying to outdrink Cassidy in hopes it would render the man incompetent. 

“ _Father I have sinned. I don’t want another man inside my partner.”_

“You asking me out Stabler?” she laughed, and out of the five words she decided to speak that day he wouldn’t have guessed it would be those. 

“Hardly, Benson,” he shot back realizing they were on a last name basis. He’d really fucked up. 

“I have plans,” she said as she began to do the buttons on her coat. 

“A date?”

“My mother,” she replied as she shot him a small smile. 

“I’d be a great reason to cancel on her,” Elliot said as he returned her smile. 

“Go home to your kids, Elliot,” she sighed as she brushed past him. _Maybe he wasn’t as screwed as he was beginning to think; he was Elliot again._

“Goodnight,” he said as he watched her back retreating from him. That parka hid a lot. What was that saying? _Ignorance is bliss._

_~_

_7:15 p.m._

Elliot sat at the local cop bar and nursed on a 3.5% alcohol content beer. He hadn’t come to drink, just to sit, but he didn’t want to look like a fool without a drink in his hand. 

It was Friday night. Lizzie was having a slumber party, and the last thing he wanted to come home to was a bunch of first graders making a muck of his already-messy house. The Stablers always hosted the parties, because all the families knew that the Stabler kids couldn’t stay the night anywhere. He didn’t understand how parents were comfortable letting their _babies_ stay the night at strangers’ homes. _Ignorance is bliss._

He considered his watch and decided another minute on the stool might make him a dead-beat. He threw some bills on the bar and packed it up. 

When he got in his car, he had every intention of driving to Queens, driving home. Instead, his steering wheel took a hard left towards Olivia Benson’s Manhattan apartment. 

He told himself he’d drive by her building and then turn back around. _Because that made logical sense._

He parked his car. He wanted to see her building from the sidewalk. Then he cracked and approached her door man. 

“Olivia leave?”

“Who?” the man said as he eyed Elliot like he was a suspect. Elliot didn’t like when the tables were turned. 

“Dark hair,” Elliot said as he gestured vaguely. 

The doorman immediately grinned with recognition. 

_“_ Lucky man,” he chuckled as he raised his eyebrows to Elliot. _Elliot noted that he needed to tell Olivia to move apartments._ He narrowed his eyes on the man, and then flashed his badge at him 

“I’m her partner and just so you know she’s a perfect shot.” The man swallowed at Elliot’s overtly obnoxious intimidation tactics. Sometimes he couldn’t help himself. 

_“Father I have sinned. I don’t want another man looking at my partner.”_

“Should I buzz you up?” the man asked as Elliot shoved his hands into the depths of his grey coat as he contemplated his answer. 

“Yes,” Elliot said through a clogged throat. “Buzz me up,” he repeated as he clenched his jaw. _What was his plan here? Tell her that he had a personal problem with her door man?_

~

She’d allowed him up so when he banged on the door, he did it with confidence. 

“I told you I was busy tonight,” she said through the crack of the door. 

“Let me in,” he said as his hands fumbled with the receipt from their deli lunch. Olivia picked at her sandwich like it was going to bite her. He hoped Serena Benson planned on buying her dinner because he knew she’d gone all day without eating. 

“I have fifteen minutes before my mother gets here,” she said as she swung the door open for him. She had changed clothes. She was wearing black jeans and a champagne colored blouse that brought out the bronze of her skin. 

“You’re wearing that for your mom?” he asked as he stepped inside and made a beeline for her kitchen. Before today he never would have made that comment. 

“I’m wearing it for myself,” she said, and he heard her bolt her door. _They were locked in._

“Elliot, what are you doing here?” she asked in an annoyed tone as she paced past him and leaned her hip against her kitchen counter. She was leaning against it like she needed it for support. She crossed her arms over her chest like she was waiting for him to confess to cheating on his eighth-grade math test. 

“I came to finish my apology; I’m not sure if you noticed but I’d been trying to do that all day.” 

“I noticed.” 

“So what? You really didn’t want to hear it?” he asked as he searched her face. 

“I want you to let it go,” she said as she examined her hand like it was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen. _Anything to not have to look at him._

“You’re not mad?” he asked as he took a step towards her. 

“Should I be?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. He forgot she was good at her job whether she was on the clock or not. She was working towards getting a confession out of him. 

“Christ, Olivia,” he seethed as he ran a hand down his face. 

“I’m waiting, Elliot,” she said firmly, but he could hear how nervous she was behind the words. That composure really did have the ability to slip. 

“I just...you know, it was...a lot,” he concluded. 

“I’m sorry?” she said as she moved off the counter to get more into his space. 

“You’re a lot,” he said as he gestured in her direction. _Great going prick, fuck he didn’t know when to quit when he was ahead, not that he was ever ahead on this._

“That’s not what I meant,” he fumbled as he tried to gauge her facial expression. _Shock, anger, disgust, about ready to kick his ass and prove to him just what a good shot she was._

“Did you come here so I could ease your Catholic guilt; is that what this is Elliot?” she asked as she evened out her stance and stood directly in front of him. _Toe to toe._ She really was a ball buster. 

He stood in silence for a beat as he tried to sort through what he wanted to say. 

“I never considered you as a woman before today, and I wanted to say I’m sorry for that.” He swallowed. Her face softened a fraction.

“They really don’t teach female anatomy in Catholic school, do they?” she said as she laughed at her own joke. 

“Funny,” he said through tight lips. 

“I just meant…”

“I know what you meant...” she said in almost a whisper. She lifted her eyes to him, and they settled on his eyes slowly like she was dipping only her toes into the water. They both stood there in silence for a minute, it was an odd mixture of comfortable and terrifying. 

“You know, when you wouldn’t talk to me all day, I was trying to come up with ways to fix that,” he said as he looked to his feet.

“Oh yeah? And what did you come up with?” she asked with an air of playfulness in her tone that made him smile. _Maybe she wasn’t all ball buster after all._

“I could make it even.” 

“Are you suggesting that you strip down for me in my kitchen,” she laughed. He shrugged like maybe he was considering it. 

“Elliot, I have no problems identifying that you are a man,” she said as she smiled at him, “And besides, some secrets have to remain in this partnership.” 

_Partnership._ Olivia was sly at reminding him where his turf was. He’d just suggested he undress in front of her, and he was only half kidding, and she took it upon herself to safely return them to _platonic_ territory. Shouldn’t he be the one doing that? He’s the married one after all. 

“I’m full of them,” he said as he glanced back up at her. 

“More like full of it,” she said as she rocked her shoulder into him as she stepped past him. She’d done it a hundred times since working with him. It was an innocent gesture of comradery, but now it felt like crossing lines. He couldn’t bump into her or pat her arm anymore without his mind going _there._ He wanted her to lean against that counter again so he could imagine bending her over it. 

_“Father I have sinned. I want to be inside my partner.”_

“My mother will be here any minute, so you should get going,” she said, her voice already heading towards the door to walk him out. He inhaled as he turned to follow her. 

“Late dinner?” 

“We’re just going to grab drinks,” she said offhandedly. 

“You eat dinner?” he asked, and she looked over her shoulder and smirked like he’d said something funny. 

“I had leftovers when I got home.” 

“The least your mother could do is buy you some pasta.” 

“She prefers cosmos,” Olivia said in a joking tone, but he could tell by the way her eyes fell that her own joke hit her in the heart. 

“Olivia…” he said as he reached for her hand. She was about to jerk her hand back but instead she let him grasp it. His fingerprints burned into her palm. 

“What are you doing?” she said in a small voice, so small it almost evaded his ears. He was pressed towards her coat rack in her small entryway, and they were standing so close he would feel her breath hitting his neck. 

“I just wanted to hold you,” he said as his thumb stroked over her knuckles. 

“Elli...” the warning began but he cut her off. 

“You have my back every day, what’s so bad about holding your hand,” he said as he drew circles over the center of her palm. 

“What did Kathy make for the slumber party?” Olivia said, and Elliot shot his eyes up to her. He’d told her about the party over a week ago; of course she remembered. 

“Spaghetti.” 

“I can’t hold your hand because I have to hold my gun, in case someone comes for your head.” 

“I trust you with my life, you know.” 

“I trust you with mine,” she said as her eyes fell to their hands.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked as he raised her hand to his mouth. “Not your mouth, just your hand,” he clarified as he let his lips brush on her knuckles. She sighed and he could tell it was a sigh of resignation. He let his lips trail from her knuckles to the base of her wrist. Her wrist was so small, he was certain he could fit both in one of his fists, hold them above her head and make her come undone. Then he turned her hand over and pressed his mouth against the fleshy pad of her palm. He let his teeth trail just a tad before soothing the skin with his tongue. It was when the moisture hit her skin that he felt her take a sharp breath in. He smiled into her hand. He liked knowing he could get that reaction just from teasing her. 

“Do you like the idea of working with Munch?” she whispered. 

“Relax Olivia, I’m only kissing your hand,” he said as his mouth found her pulse point and god help him, he sucked. Her skin tasted like her lotion and salt, and like something that was purely Olivia. He wished like hell he could move his ministrations up to her neck. _Maybe he could?_ He let his lips go lower on her arm, placing open-mouthed kisses down the length of her forearm, and as he was doing it, he realized this was probably the strangest first kiss any two people had ever had. _Seemed fitting for them_. She sighed again, or maybe it was a moan. He looked up to see her eyes had closed. They had fluttered like she was resting them from facing some truth. _The truth that this was wrong._

He didn’t care. Sure he was a man of faith, he was a husband and a father, and he was her partner, but he was also a _man,_ and god help him, he wanted her to know that. He grasped for her waist and turned her into him. His fingers pressed into the curve of her body. He squeezed harder than he should have. He wanted his fingers fused to her skin. He wanted to _mark_ her. He wanted his claim on her, so the doorman, the perverts of the city, the suspects, the colleagues, Brian Cassidy, or any other motherfucker on the street would know not to mess with her. 

_“Father I have sinned. I am selfish beyond repair.”_

She wrapped her free hand around his hand that was grabbing her waist. She let her fingernails dig into his wrist as she pulled his hand loose from her and raised his hand between them. 

“At least let me make it even,” she said as she took his thumb between her lips and challenged him with her eyes. _Fuck._ His stomach dropped ten floors as her tongue teased him. He took back her control and pulled her bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb as his fingers cupped her chin. 

“Careful, Olivia,” he seethed.


	4. Deserving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot's P.O.V.

_7:50 p.m._

“Are you finally coming to your senses?” she smirked as her top teeth nipped at his thumb. 

“Hardly,” he said through breaths. If she was going to challenge him, he was going to challenge her back. He let his other hand grab her neck, and she moaned. It wasn’t a sigh or a _stop._ It was a moan, and it was the only prayer he needed. 

_“Father I have sinned. I’ve turned my back on everything that makes me good.”_

He let his thumb abandon her open mouth and tangle instead in her hair. God, he wanted to smell her hair. She was so sweet. 

He leaned into his fate, and she was going to meet him on the brink of destruction, and he had faith that she wasn’t going to save him this time. 

Then he saw her eyes. _Those eyes brought him to his knees every time._

_Sad eyes._

_~_

_“What are your kids' names?”_

_“Maureen is the oldest. Kathleen is the middle kid, and don’t tell anyone, but she might be my favorite. Elizabeth and Richard are twins, but we call them Lizzie and Dickie.”_

_“That’s a name to saddle a kid with.”_

_laughs_

_“How about you? Any kids? Siblings?”_

_“No…nope, no kids, no siblings.”_

_“Ah.”_

_“So, a husband? I know it’s the feminist thing these days to forgo the diamond, and I don’t know what other prefixes you use beyond detective.”_

_“No husband.”_

_“Wife?”_

_laughs_

_“Nobody.”_

_~_

Olivia made him want to be better. A better cop, a better partner, and a better man. Olivia had been disappointed her whole life. _No one bought her dinner. She ate alone most nights._ It killed him inside because he wanted to be _somebody_ in her life, but he had to claim his chair at his family's table. He wished he could set a plate for her in his home. 

Olivia was not a mistress, and he would be a horrible person to make her one. He wanted to kiss her, and he wanted to make her dinner, and he wanted to _fuck_ her, but dammit, he couldn’t do any of it. _He could be her partner. That’s all they could have._

“Olivia, I’m so sorry,” he said as he let his lips press to her forehead instead. 

“Thank you,” she sighed, and he could hear how the emotion strained in her words. _Thank you for not making me something I never want to be._ He could hear her truth, and it burned him inside. 

“Always, Liv.” 

“Only my friends call me that.” 

“I am your friend,” he whispered against her forehead. 

“Friends don’t do that.” 

“You need to get better friends,” he chuckled as he pulled back from her and then searched her eyes. _Are we going to recover from this?_ He asked her silently. 

“I have plenty of friends.” 

“Then why are you standing here with me?” he laughed. 

“You are the one that came here, _partner_.” 

_Yes. Yes, we will recover from this, Elliot._ He took comfort in the secret language they had developed. 

“I’m going to get going, gotta scrub spaghetti sauce off the walls.” 

“Oh boy.” 

“Night, Liv,” he said as he reached for her doorknob. 

“It’s Olivia.”

“We’ll get there,” he joked as he let her door fall shut. If he could call her Liv it meant he could be her _friend_. _Just_ her friend _. Her partner._

He fought back sobs the whole drive home. 

~

_Stabler Residence / 9:00 p.m._

“Did the kids have fun?” Elliot asked as he stood with his back to his wife and unbuttoned his dress shirt. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and he could feel her eyes on him. 

“Sarah got a stomachache and had to go home early. I’m sure we’ll be woken tonight when the cookies don’t sit right with another kid.” 

“Hmm.”

“I’m just glad Lizzie is making friends,” Kathy said. 

“Our shy one,” Elliot said as he turned around and faced his wife. 

“You were home late tonight?” she said in a soft voice. It wasn’t accusatory, just routine. He hated how often he made her speak those words. 

“Work…” he began, but she cut him off. 

“You’d tell me, right?” her blue eyes welled up, and he wanted to send his fists through a wall. All the women in his life were looking at him with sad eyes, and he was failing everyone. 

“Tell you what, Kath?” he asked, but he _knew_ what she was asking. 

“If it’s happening again, the long nights after work, the extra drink, the partnership thing that I can’t understand.” 

“Olivia isn’t Jo,” he said as he cleared his throat, images of his thumb on Olivia’s lip assaulting his mind as he lied to his wife. 

“I wish you talked to me.” 

“I am talking to you.” 

“What do you and Olivia talk about?” Kathy asked as she placed her palms on her crossed knees. 

“We talk about you,” he said, and that provoked a shocked look from his wife. _What did Kathy make for the slumber party?_

“I expected you to say you talked about the cases, the things you can’t tell me about.” 

“That too,” Elliot said as he crossed his arms over his bare chest. 

“She seems like a good person,” Kathy said as her eyes looked from him to the door. Elliot didn’t say anything; he didn’t want to talk about Olivia. He didn’t want to talk at all. He wanted to turn off the lights and be left to his own thoughts. He needed space to process his _loss,_ but space wasn’t an option in a marriage. He dragged his eyes back to Kathy. 

“You should invite her to dinner,” Kathy said in a tone that made his heartbeat quicken. 

“Kathy…” 

“We had Alfonso over all the time,” she retorted, and her eyes darkened with _knowing. Olivia was not Jo, but she was also not Alfonso._ Elliot swallowed as he realized the secret loomed in the four feet between them. 

“She’s your partner,” Kathy said, “I think it’s time I get to know her better,” and Elliot realized his heart couldn’t handle anymore tonight. He wanted far away from the reality of his life. 

“I’ll ask her,” Elliot said through a tight smile. The thought of having his wife and his partner in the same space made his chest tighten. 

“Good.” Kathy said as her eyes swept over him, as if she was looking for traces of Olivia. He paced to his side of the bed and pulled back the covers. His body dipped into the bed, and he almost wished Kathy would send him to the couch. He’d done enough _wrong_ to warrant it. 

_“Kathy, I saw Olivia naked today.”_

_“Kathy, I went to Olivia’s apartment.”_

_“Kathy, I don’t want to sleep in our bed tonight.”_

“Goodnight,” he said instead as he patted her hand and prayed that she would accept that as a signal that he’d done all the talking he could manage for one night. 

“You’re not on call tomorrow?” Kathy asked as she flicked off the light and rolled into him. His body startled at her touch. He wanted badly to ask for space, but he knew the request would incriminate him. 

“Free as a bird,” Elliot said as the word _free_ burned his tongue. If he were _free,_ he knew where he’d be. 


	5. Desperate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olivia's P.O.V.

_That Same Day / 8:00 p.m._

The door closed. _We’ll get there,_ ringing in her ears. Her body fell against her coat rack as she let the tears come. Her fingers searched for something to grasp onto. The fabrics of the coats she wore to work had never made her feel so cold before. 

The sob wracked her ribcage, and she allowed it for just a moment before she stifled it down deep into the parts of her that she would never let anyone unlock. 

Her mother would be buzzing her building any minute. She needed to compose herself. She made a beeline for her kitchen. She poured water into a glass from the tap and drank it down as fast as she could. Then she turned the water to a scalding temperature, and she held her hands under the waterfall. She needed to feel the _burn._

He’d burned her in a way that she wasn’t certain she would ever heal from. It would have hurt less if he’d captured her mouth and fucked her into that wall. 

She could have _hated_ him for that. Instead, she was left with the horrible realization that he was everything she’d always wanted, and she couldn’t have him. He’d let her go, and she couldn’t be anymore attached. 

_Let it go, let him go, he wasn’t yours to keep Olivia, he never was._

_Let him go._

_Let him go._

She’d see him at work on Monday, but she knew she’d never have him again like she had him for that split moment in the hallway. 

It was all right before her, and she _let it go._

“Fuck!” she cried into the silence of her apartment as she pulled back her hands from the water before she caused permanent skin damage.

Thank god Serena Benson was always late. Maybe with any luck her mother would stand her up. 

She hurried to her bathroom and wiped away her running mascara. She caught a glimpse of her reflection, and it felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to the backs of her knees. Her hair was still tousled from where his fingers hand clung to the strands like she was his lifeline. 

She tore her eyes from her reflection and quickly brushed her hair out. 

She heard the buzzer. 

Her mother. 

She wasn’t sure how much more she could take in one day. 

“Coming!” she called as she shut off the light and grabbed her wallet and coat. 

She’d be fine. She’d take her mother up on the third drink and the fourth drink and the fifth drink, and maybe she’d reach some oblivion.

Mother like daughter. 

The first time she’d gotten wasted with her mother she was thirteen. Sean Anderson told her she wasn’t pretty, and Serena Benson handed her a gin and tonic. Maybe her mother really had been trying to kill her. 

She didn’t start out on wine coolers. Olivia skipped the baby steps with everything. It was always 0 to 100.

_We don’t really talk about our personal lives_ to _he is my personal life._

She pushed the thought away as she opened the door to her mother. 

~

_8:30 p.m._

“What’s eating at you?” her mother asked as she leaned towards her from across the circle bar table. 

“Nothing,” Olivia said as she sipped her third drink. She _hated_ the taste of alcohol. 

“Work?”

“Let’s not talk about that tonight.”

“You’re almost coming up on two years there; maybe it’s time you transfer out.” 

“I have no desire to do that,” Olivia said as she crossed one leg over the other. She wondered if Elliot was in bed yet. She wondered if he’d touch his wife tonight. If Kathy touched him first would he refuse her? Maybe she should switch to shots. 

“How is it going with…” Her mother gestured to the ceiling as she tried to come up with Elliot’s name. She came up empty. 

“He’s fine,” Olivia swallowed.

“Are you fucking him yet?” her mother said in a calloused tone. 

“Is that what you think of me?” Olivia bit off because she was all out of resolve for the night. 

“Oh honey,” her mother laughed like she’d just said the funniest thing she’d ever heard. 

“You’ve always had a habit of fucking everyone you’re not supposed to.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Come on Olivia, every man that would look at you sideways would end up leaving out of your bedroom window, and that was back before you started sneaking out. I should have shackled you in.” 

“You should have,” Olivia growled as she sipped the drink, her eyes connecting with her mother’s. 

“You were uncontrollable.” 

“I was sixteen.” 

“I tried to tell you they were all using you,” Serena said with the hint of an eyeroll. 

“I thought they loved me,” Olivia said into her martini glass. 

“No one loves women like us, sweetheart.” 

“I was sixteen,” she repeated. “Hardly a woman,” she added under her breath as if it was a moot point. Her mother didn’t say anything. She didn’t even pretend to care. 

“I’ve had enough,” Olivia said as she slid her half empty glass towards her mother. 

“You always do this,” Serena Benson said as her slur started to kick in. 

“Do what?”

“Walk away when it starts to get good.” Her mother’s words nipped at her heart. She’d dedicated her life to not walking away. She stood beside every victim and saw their pain through the end. She was sick of people telling her she _walks away._

“Do yourself a favor and call a cab,” Olivia said as she dropped cash onto the table and walked into the night that had broken her heart one too many times. 

~

She walked the whole way home, and once she made it back to her apartment, she found herself in front of her bathroom mirror again. This time she held a pair of kitchen scissors in her hand as she twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. 

She smiled through cries as she let the scissors work their havoc on her locks. This had become a sick practice of her’s. Whenever she lost too much control in her life, she asserted it again over her hair. _What a childish thing to do._

~

_“You think you’re a big girl, Olivia,” her mother said as she looked at Olivia’s freshly cropped hair, low rise jeans, and pierced navel. Her mother had always loved her long locks. It was the one thing about her that her mother didn’t grimace at. When she was really young, her mother used to brush through her hair after her baths and tell her stories about all the things she could grow up to be someday._

_“I think that I don’t care what you think anymore,” Olivia said as she tried to walk past her mother and into her bedroom._

_“You have no appreciation!” her mother yelled out as she gripped her wine glass._

_“Why should I appreciate you?!” Olivia screamed back as she slammed her bedroom door._

_Her mother came to her door and swung it open._

_“Get out then,” Serena said as her glassy eyes looked at Olivia with hatred._

_“Fine,” Olivia replied as she began to shove things into a bag that she always kept at the ready for when Serena went into a particularly bad binge._

_“You know, before you, I used to be fun. I used to wear jeans like that, and I had long gorgeous hair, and all the men wanted me too! I walked around like I was untouchable, and all the doors were open to me. I was smart, Olivia; I was beautiful too,” Serena said as a sob started to make its way up her throat._

_“Why are you telling me this,” Olivia said as she shoved past her mother with her overnight bag in tow. She’d go to one of her lover’s and find comfort for the night._

_“Because you ruined all of that for me! I kept you, and I lost myself,” Serena said as she followed her to the door._

_“Then you shouldn’t have kept me,” Olivia said with her hand on the door handle._

_“I love you, honey,” her mother said as if she was having a moment of clarity through her drunken haze._

_“No you don’t.”_

_“I hate him, but I love you,” Serena said as she grabbed Olivia’s forearm. Him, meaning her father. The father that Serena would never talk about. Olivia had long ago accepted that she would never know anything about the man, and she knew not to ask anymore because it would send Serena further into the bottle._

_“Why do you hate him?” Olivia asked even though she’d guessed the answer around thirteen. She’d never heard her mother confirm it, but in her heart she already knew._

_“He held me down, and he gave me you. It wasn’t my choice, Olivia,” Serena said as a sob escaped her mouth._

_“Why are you telling me this,” Olivia repeated as a sob escaped her mouth as well._

_“Because you don’t understand what I go through, and you will never understand until it happens to you,” her mother spat._

_“I’m sorry, mom,” Olivia said as she tried to bring herself to look at her mother’s aging face. Serena reached up and touched Olivia’s short hair._

_“You were such a pretty child,” her mother commented from some faraway place in her own inescapable hell. Olivia wished she could drag her mother from that place._

_“What can I do to help,” Olivia asked because it wasn’t in her nature to abandon someone who needed her._

_“Just go, go to one of those men who could be your father,” Serena said as she turned her back on her sixteen-year-old daughter._

~

That was the moment that Olivia realized her mother didn’t _need_ her; her mother _regretted_ her. She never wanted another person to regret her the way Serena did. She never wanted _Elliot_ to regret her, so she chopped, and she chopped, hoping that her short hair would make her more repelling to him; it had worked with her mother. 

All the spindles that Elliot had touched dropped into the sink, and she hoped that letting go of that moment would make facing him on Monday easier. 

She’d walk into that squad-room a new woman, and any memory of what transpired in the hallway would be just that, a _memory,_ a moment cut short before either of them could _regret_ the fallout that it would have caused. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will jump ahead to season six.


	6. Detrimental

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot's P.O.V.

_4.5 Years Later / December 2004_

Five years of mastering boundaries had been shot to hell with three simple words.

_Kathy left me_. 

Olivia had chased after him demanding to know what was going on with him and he let it slip. He knew part of the reason he did was because he wanted to see the look on her face when the news hit her ears. 

Weren’t those the words she’d been waiting to hear since that night in her doorway? _He was pathetic,_ Olivia had moved on and she pulled him along with her. She mastered the art of putting space in their relationship and he followed her lead. There were no more pats to his chest, touches to his arm, and she rarely sat on his desk as she looked over their casefiles. She reserved any physical touch for near death experiences. He did the same, because they had to. 

He watched her go on dates and turn down dates and she watched him pretend to be content with his life. Things had fallen into a comfortable understanding between them. Benson and Stabler, best partners in the department, highest case closure rate, and known for their skillful interrogations. The rumors still existed but they didn’t fly like they did the first two years. Elliot assumed that other’s must have figured that if they didn’t start fucking after that first year that they were never going to. _They were never going to._ They were just partners and they worked damn well together. He valued what they had; their partnership was a constant in his life that centered him on his worst days, he hated to think that he almost threw all that away on that night five years ago. He was thankful for both their restraint because now he had her in a way that was much more meaningful than a moment of weakness. _That’s what he told himself anyway._

They had become so ingrained in their denial that he didn’t think anything could shake their facade of disinterest. 

_Kathy left me._

Three simple words that had changed his life and they reflected back in her mirror eyes. She was in pain for him and he wanted to comfort her for it. 

He knew he’d been spiraling. He’d been edgy and angry and snapping at her more than he had the right too, but she’d taken it all in stride. She knew he was suffering, and he knew the more he let her in as to why, the faster she would come running after him and the thought terrified him. 

He was a mess. 

His life was in shambles.

The last thing he was ready for was Olivia Benson. He didn’t deserve her. He couldn’t touch the complexity of what they almost opened five years ago. He would self-combust and take her down in his flames, and the last thing he wanted to do was _hurt_ Olivia. So, when she looked at him with those understanding eyes, he had to turn his back on her. When she called him that night to check in on him, he let her call go to voicemail, when she brought him a bagel the next morning, he let it grow cold on his desk, and when she shot him a look with her eyes he looked away. He couldn’t accept her care because he was in no place to return it. 

He was not the man he was when they first became partners and he felt he was ruined for her. There was nothing about him that could serve her anymore. The job had consumed him and, on most days, the only reason he stayed was so he could still see her face. Cragen would send his jacket straight to early retirement if he knew that truth. 

He needed space. He needed distance from Olivia. He had to take a page out of her book because now that the words, _Kathy left me,_ lingered between them he knew she would lose resolve. He had to protect her from himself. 

That was why he was tightening his tie and putting on cologne to take Rebecca Hendrix out to dinner. Olivia had been so cold towards Rebecca. 

_I know you’re on the rebound but if you could keep it out of work that’d be great._

He knew he was a prick for proving her assumptions right, but he needed to feel human again. It had been over a month since Kathy took Kathleen, Lizzie, and Dickie to her parents’ house. 

~

_“I can’t do this anymore, Elliot,” she said over the phone, he could hear the traffic in the background and knew she was already on the road heading upstate._

_“Can’t do what,” he asked as he looked around their silent house._

_“You are so angry all the time,” Kathy said, and he hated that she was saying this in the car with their kids listening._

_“I know and I’m working…”_

_“You’re not working on it; it’s eating you up. I hardly know you anymore,” Kathy said, and he could hear that she was holding back tears. It had been a long time since he was the boy she fell in love with and he hated himself for not being who she wanted him to be. He hardly knew who he was anymore._

_“Kathy please…”_

_“I don’t understand you Elliot, I don’t know how to help you anymore.”_

_“You don’t need to help me.”_

_“Elliot I’m sorry I’ve done this to you, and I don’t want you sitting alone in our house. Call Olivia.”_

_“Olivia doesn’t need to help me either,” he spat as anger rose in his voice._

_“Call your partner, maybe she can help you,” Kathy said as she clicked off the line and Elliot was left standing in the ashes of his life._

_Call Olivia._

_Even his wife knew she was the only one who kept the lid on his bubbling rage._

_~_

“You look nice,” he said to Rebecca as she stepped out from her apartment. 

“Thank you, detective,” she smiled as she linked her arm in his and they began the couple block walk to a nearby restaurant. He’d asked her to dinner after the case and she smiled in acceptance, like she had expected that he would. Elliot liked Rebecca, she was smart, and pretty in a simple sort of way, he felt at ease in her presence. Her eyes didn’t threaten to swallow him up in their depths. 

Olivia was right, Rebecca was the perfect rebound, a smooth transition into the modern dating world that he had no idea how to navigate. 

Elliot wondered briefly if Kathy was dating again. Neither of them had ever dated. They found out they were going to be parents before they could even see an R rated movie together. She probably couldn’t wait to date now that she was free of him. She’d told him after a week at her parents that the space had given her clarity and she wanted to proceed with a divorce. 

_“I’ll go to therapy.”_

_“I’ll go to anger management.”_

_“I’ll be home by 6:00 p.m. every night.”_

None of his pleading worked. He knew what she wanted to hear was “ _I’ll quit Special Victims.”_ He knew he could never speak those words, even as a bargaining chip for his marriage. He couldn’t quit Special Victims; it was who he was. _“I’ll quit Special Victims”_ felt like saying _“I’ll quit Olivia,”_ and he knew he could never say that. 

~

“So tell me something about yourself Elliot,” Rebecca said as she folded her napkin on her lap. 

“What do you want to know,” he smiled as he mimicked her movement. He was suddenly overcome with the fear that he would seem boring. He had been a husband and a father for so much of his life that he didn’t know who he was outside of that identity. _He missed his kids like crazy._ He found his brain wanting to talk about them. 

“What’s your favorite color,” she asked, and he smiled, maybe she was just as nervous as him. 

_Brown._ He thought silently and then swallowed when he tried to come up with why. 

“Blue,” he decided as he sipped his drink. He’d ordered a draft beer; she had chosen wine and he realized he didn’t even know what he liked to drink. Everything he did, he did for other people. 

“Such a cop,” she laughed as she placed her hands on the table in front of them. 

“You got me,” he shrugged as he forced himself to make eye contact with her. 

“How long have you worked Special Victims,” she asked as she clasped her hands. 

“14 years,” he said as he took another gulp of beer. 

“How many with Olivia?” 

“Seven,” he said as the number hit him squarely in the jaw. She was such a big part of his life that she came up on his first date before his wife of over twenty years had. 

“That’s a long time,” Rebecca observed as her eyes filled with a look he didn’t like. 

“Yep,” Elliot said, wishing that everyone and their brother wouldn’t grill him about his relationship with Olivia. 

“She’s protective of you,” Rebecca stated evenly as she maintained eye contact with him. 

“Partners have to be,” he shrugged as he decided to show more interest in his menu than his date. He needed to change the topic but didn’t want to make it too obvious. 

“So tell me about yourself,” Elliot said as he redirected the conversation. She went along with it and began telling him anecdotes that he listened to with some interest. The whole time she was talking he couldn’t help but think that this was why Olivia hated dating so much. It was so fake, two people telling handpicked stories that attempted to make themselves endearing. He wondered what Rebecca would think if she saw him pummel his fists into a punching bag and then sob like a little boy with his hands clutching his eyes because he couldn’t get the burn of another raped child out of his eyes. 

He hated dating. He wanted his marriage back. Marriage was real. Sure, he and Kathy had their issues, but he never had to tell her stories about himself, she knew all the stories because she had been beside him for all of them. _How does someone just walk away after twenty years?_ Kathy had been his whole life, his whole identity. She packed up and left him to rebuild himself and he had no idea who he was without her and their kids. 

_For better or worse, in sickness and in health._

He was sick alright. He was a sick bastard and why should she have to stick around to watch him implode? He was at his worst when the cases consumed him and the only way, he could cope with everything that was wrong with the world was to expel the energy through his fists. He wanted his marriage back, but he realized Kathy had never seen him at his worst, he always managed to compose himself somewhat before stepping foot inside his home. 

The cribs saw the worst, the locker room walls saw the worst, and Olivia.

She saw the worst of it. His _worst._

_“I’m your partner for better or worse.”_

_~_

_“Liv…,” his voice had said into the phone as she picked up. He stood in his living room, following his wife’s instructions._

_“El?” she said, and he could hear the confusion in her voice, “we’re not on call tonight, why are you calling?”_

_“I…,” he began as he sank onto his couch. His house was eerily quiet without the sound of Kathleen screaming at Lizzie and Dickie’s video games blaring in the background._

_“You’re worrying me,” she said into the phone. She knew he’d been off for months._

_“Are you busy tonight?”_

_“It depends, why are you calling?”_

_“Just answer my question first.”_

_“I am busy,” she said and that’s when he became aware of the man’s voice in the background, he also realized that she would drop that man in a minute if he was honest about why he was calling. He couldn’t do that to her._

_“It’s nothing, I’ll see you on Monday.”_

_“Elliot.”_

_“Night, Liv,” he said as he clicked off the call and cried for himself, for the first, time since that drive home over five years prior._

_~_

“I had a great time tonight,” Rebecca said as they arrived at her door. Elliot looked down at her and smiled. She stood taller on her tip toes and initiated a kiss. Elliot was a little taken aback but quickly settled into the kiss. It was _nice._ He never thought he’d kiss another woman. Rebecca reminded him of Kathy, the way they kissed was the same. Gentle and soft. He smiled into her lips. 

“Do you want to come inside,” she asked as she pulled back from the kiss slightly. Elliot was startled by the proposition, he thought that was a third date offer but then he realized she was a grown woman in Manhattan and not everyone lived as prudish of a lifestyle as he had his entire life. He wondered if Olivia took men to bed after one date. Knowing Olivia, the men probably didn’t have a chance to sign the bill before she was biting at their lips. 

He wondered what stories Olivia told on dates. He liked to think he knew everything there was to know about her, he’d practically been _dating_ her for years. He’d heard all the stories on late night stake outs and as he looked down at Rebecca Hendrix, he was grappling with the jealousy that other men got to hear Olivia’s stories and then be invited up to her apartment. 

“Yes, I’d like that,” he responded, and she grinned back at him as she led him inside. Elliot looked around her apartment and found himself comparing it to Olivia’s. Olivia could take an interior design tip or two from Rebecca. 

Rebecca pulled him into her living room and began to kiss him again. She deepened the kiss and Elliot complied. He felt like he was fooling around in High-School again. He realized that he might embarrass himself, he’d become so used to Kathy he couldn’t imagine being with anyone else, _besides Olivia._

He reached for Rebecca’s hair and she smiled into his mouth. 

“You’re so tentative Stabler,” she said and that didn’t help his confidence. Instead of replying to her he decided to move his mouth to her neck, so he didn’t risk coming off as incompetent. 

“Yes, like that,” she encouraged and that gave him all the reassurance he needed to continue. When he entered her, he couldn’t help but feel like he was cheating on Kathy, _and Olivia._


	7. Daughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olivia's P.O.V.

_January 2005_

“Harder, Langan,” Olivia cried as he slid in and out of her in fast strokes. 

“Don’t call me by my last name when I’m fucking you,” he groaned. 

“Faster, Trevor,” she corrected as she flipped them over and rode him until he finished. She slid off him and settled into her bed. She wondered how long she should wait before asking him to leave. He loved to do the pillow talk routine, and she did not. Forty or so minutes of silence went by before he spoke, 

“Will you let me take you to dinner sometime?” he asked as he rolled over to face her. His hand rested on her belly, and it raised with her shallow breaths.

“And risk being seen with you, in public?” she said with a raised eyebrow. 

“I’m not that bad, Liv,” 

“Don’t call me Liv,” she corrected. 

“Oh right, only Stabler can call you that, huh,” he said with a cocky smile on his face. 

“My friends call me Liv, and you are not my friend,” she said as her hand gripped his penis. He hardened instantly against her touch. 

“Weren’t satisfied the first time?” he asked, and she nodded as she bit her lip. 

“Alright, Olivia,” he said with emphasis on her full name as he entered her again.

~

Trevor was sleeping softly when her phone began to ring. It was almost midnight and she didn’t know who would be calling her at that hour. 

“Benson,” she answered because she didn’t have the number saved as a contact. 

“Liv,” a female voice said through the phone. It took her a minute to put together who it could be, but when she did, she felt her chest tighten. 

“Maureen,” Olivia said into the phone, “Is everything okay?” she asked as her mind went to the worst places. Elliot’s biggest fear was getting a call about one of his daughters. 

“I’m fine, I’m calling because I wanted to know if I could schedule a time to meet with you,” she said, and Olivia could hear that the young woman was nervous. Olivia sat up on her bed and ran a hand through her hair as she tried to understand why Maureen would want to meet with her. 

“Sure, honey,” Olivia said, and she instantly felt foolish for letting the term of endearment slip. She’d heard Elliot call his daughters ‘honey,’ so it seemed like they were ‘honey’ to her by extension. She silently cursed herself for thinking she had the right. 

“Are you free tomorrow night?” Maureen asked, seemingly unfazed by the nickname Olivia had used on her. 

“Yeah, when I get off work, what is this about?” Olivia asked, even though she was beginning to suspect the answer. 

“I’m worried about my dad,” she said with a heavy sigh into the phone. Olivia didn’t know what to say. She’d been worried about Elliot too. The sight of him bending over his knees, after he verbally assaulted the mother of a victim, plagued her tired eyes. 

_How do you just walk away after twenty years?_

Olivia’s heart broke as she watched her partner grapple with his failing marriage. She wanted nothing more than to take him in her arms and promise him it would all be okay, but she knew it wasn’t her place. 

He wanted his _wife_ back. 

She told Maureen she’d meet her at a nearby restaurant the next day at 7:00 p.m. 

“Who was that?” Trevor asked as he sat up behind her and pulled her against his chest. She felt his hands rest under her breasts, and she couldn’t deny that it was nice to have someone beside her at night. Maybe she should let Trevor take her to dinner, maybe she owed it to herself to _try_ with someone who could give her the things she wanted. Trevor’s hands were warm against her belly, and she thought about how their children would be attractive. 

“Maureen.” 

“Who?”

“Elliot’s daughter,” she said as she let her head fall onto his shoulder. He kissed her neck as he said, 

“I don’t like how his name always comes up when we’re in bed.” 

She closed her eyes as she thought, _me neither Trevor, me neither._

_~_

“Thanks for meeting me, Liv,” Maureen said as she set her clutch on the table and pulled her chair out. Olivia smiled at how casually the young woman used her nickname. She realized it was because that was what Elliot called her, so therefore, she was ‘Liv’ to Maureen by extension, sort of like how Maureen was ‘honey’ to her. 

“No problem,” Olivia smiled as her eyes took in the sight of Maureen. She was the spitting image of Kathy Stabler. Before they could speak more words to each other, the waitress came up to take their drink orders. Olivia ordered water, and Maureen ordered Sauvignon Blanc. It startled Olivia that Elliot had a child who could legally drink when she was still wishing for a baby. 

“I know you work crazy hours, so it means a lot that you’d make time for me,” Maureen said, fumbling with her napkin as she kept flicking her eyes up to Olivia like she was afraid to look at her. 

“Of course,” Olivia said as she held back the ‘honey’ that wanted to slip out. 

“So, as I’m sure you know my mom took Kathleen, Liz, and Dick to my grandparents,” Maureen began, and Olivia felt the tone of the evening shift. 

“I heard,” Olivia began, but Maureen continued on like she hadn’t heard her.

“My mom told me after she did it; she didn’t even bother to call me first. I know I’m away at school, but it would have been nice to know what was happening with my family,” Maureen said more to herself than to Olivia. 

“Your dad didn’t tell me at first; I only found out a few weeks ago,” Olivia said, and she was surprised she was revealing as much as she was. 

“Really?” Maureen questioned as she let her eyes land on Olivia fully for the first time that night. Olivia began to open her mouth, but Maureen interjected, 

“I just assumed you’d be the first person he would have called,” Maureen said as her eyes filled with emotions that Olivia wasn’t prepared to dissect. 

“Your dad mostly calls me for work,” Olivia clarified. 

“I didn’t mean, I mean... I know it’s not like that Liv, even though mom always wondered, but I just meant, Dad always says you are his best friend. I thought he’d call you first,” Maureen said, and Olivia felt her stomach still as she listened to the details of her partnership with Elliot through the lens of his grown daughter. _Best Friend._ Olivia couldn’t help but laugh internally at the notion. She didn’t know what Elliot’s role in her world was anymore, much less what her role was in his. 

“I wish he had,” Olivia said, and she was shocked at her own candidness. Then she remembered that night a few months back. Trevor had been kissing her neck as she picked up Elliot’s call. _Are you busy tonight?_ She recalled the pain in his voice, but she assumed he was upset about the case and wanted to talk shop. Now that she thought about it, she could trace the change in him back to that phone call. _Dammit._

“Mom’s dating again,” Maureen let drop; Olivia clutched her water glass. 

“How do you feel about that?” Olivia asked as she suddenly felt awkward with the direction of the conversation. She didn’t want Maureen to think she was prying for any information. 

“I’m happy that she is happy. You know, she had me when she was just a kid, so I’m happy she can explore what she wants outside of being a mom, I’m just worried about dad,” Maureen said as her eyes flicked to her menu. 

“Does he know?” Olivia asked. 

“That’s what I wanted to ask you,” Maureen said as she tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. 

“He hasn’t mentioned it,” Olivia said, and Maureen sat with a pondering look on her face. Olivia couldn’t help but take in her beauty. She had grown into everything Elliot wanted for her, and Olivia couldn’t help but feel proud, _by extension._

“What do you and dad talk about?” Maureen asked, and Olivia could tell she was nervous at posing the question. Olivia inhaled as she tried to process why everyone always wanted to know what she and Elliot talked about. Trevor had been asking her the same question for months. 

“We talk about you and your siblings all the time,” Olivia smiled. 

“What?” Maureen laughed as she brought her wine to her painted lips. 

“Oh yeah, I know about every boyfriend you’ve ever had, every time you tried to sneak out, all the school dances, your freshman year of college transgressions,” Olivia laughed as she watched Maureen’s face flood with embarrassment. 

“Oh dear, I’m sorry you had to hear about all that,” Maureen laughed, “I hope I’m one of the less problematic Stabler kids,” she added as her blue eyes twinkled. 

“I think Kathleen definitely causes your dad the most grief,” Olivia confirmed, and Maureen grinned. 

“She’s his favorite,” Maureen said. 

“She is,” Olivia confirmed, and they both broke out in a laugh. The shared laugh surrounded them, and after a moment, Maureen broke the fun with a question that deflated Olivia’s lungs. 

“Do you think he’d ever hurt himself?” Her eyes were so earnest with fear for her father. 

“Maureen…” Olivia began as she tried to grapple for an answer. The thought of Elliot hurting himself burned her alive. She wanted to keep eyes on him all the time, but she knew she couldn’t. 

“His partner before Alfonso, Dave...he ate his gun,” Maureen said, and the known fact hit Olivia like she was hearing it for the first time. 

“How did you know that?” 

“He prays for him every night,” Maureen said as tears sprung to her eyes. “When I lived at home, I would spy on him. He’d go into the living room long after everyone else was sound asleep, and he’d pray on his knees with his head bowed to our couch,” Maureen said, and the image of her partner praying unfolded before her eyes. 

“He’d be so mad if he knew I spied on those private moments of his,” Maureen said as she cleared her throat. Olivia didn’t know what to say. A long pause transpired before Maureen added,

“He prays for you too, Liv,” she said as a soft smile ghosted her lips. The news hit Olivia’s ears, knocking her breath from her chest. 

“He does?” she asked in disbelief, and Maureen nodded. 

“What does he say?” Olivia asked. She wasn't sure she believed in a God, but in that moment, she knew she would never let another night go by without praying for her partner, _praying that he never hurt himself._

“He asks that you be kept safe. He asks that Dave be forgiven for his sins, and he prays for us kids and mom of course, but he always ends his prayer by asking that nothing ever happens to you,” Maureen said, and then she swallowed a long pull of wine. Olivia drank half of her water glass because she didn’t know how to respond. 

“Our job is very dark,” Olivia began, but Maureen interjected. 

“You mean a lot to him, Liv, that’s why I knew you would know if I should be worried,” Maureen said as she locked eyes with Olivia. 

“Your dad is very strong,” Olivia said as his boiling anger over the last few months flashed through her mind. 

“I know he is, I just,” Maureen trailed off, and Olivia wasn’t sure how to fill the silence. 

“Will you promise me something, Olivia?” Maureen asked, and the use of her full name wasn’t lost on Olivia. Maureen was _serious._ Olivia nodded, and Maureen sighed as she said,

“Promise me you won’t ever leave him too; he couldn’t handle it.” 


	8. Daring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot's P.O.V.

_9 Months Later / October 2005_

“You’re so tense all the time,” Rebecca said as her fingers reached out to graze his jawline. He recoiled at her touch. 

_What would you be if all those controls went away?_

_I’d be you._

Rickett’s words still haunted his nights, and his knuckles still burned with the pain he had released through them. He didn’t think the lockers had forgiven him yet. 

He let the back of his hand stroke Rebecca’s soft hip. He’d been seeing her loosely in the past few months. He’d heard rumors Kathy was seeing a personal injury attorney, so that seemed like reason enough to continue calling Rebecca after a hard case. 

“You know I help people for a living,” Rebecca offered as she leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. He smirked as a way of saying he knew, and there was a reason he didn’t ask for help. 

“I could do a session with you,” she said in almost a whisper. 

“Like a therapy session,” Elliot said as he turned to his side in his new bed. He liked this new bed; he’d been sleeping on a hand-me-down mattress for twenty years of his life, and the first thing he purchased as a somewhat-single man was a new mattress. _He needed a fresh start._ He liked his new apartment and how the morning sun came through his bedroom window. He wondered what the sunlight would look like catching on Olivia’s hair. He gulped at the thought and retrained his eyes on Rebecca. Olivia hadn’t even been to his new place yet. He didn’t even know if she knew he had gotten himself an apartment. Things had been so strained between them. 

_And look how great you turned out,_

_It’s not all about the genes Liv._

The moment had been a nice lull in their choppy waters. He knew she wanted a baby. That kept him awake. The thought of another man putting a baby inside of her made his jaw tighten, but the thought of getting to see her experience motherhood made it soften a little. She’d be an amazing mother. Every day he felt he was coming closer to losing her to another man, a man who could give her the child she so desperately wanted. His eyes fell to Rebecca’s stomach, and he wondered if she wanted a baby too; she was around Olivia’s age. 

“Yes, like a therapy session,” she laughed as she stroked his chest. “I think it could be really good for you.”

“You sound like my wife.”

“Your ex-wife,” Rebecca clarified as she examined his face. 

“Neither of us have filed for divorce yet,” Elliot gulped. It dawned on him that he was still a married man in bed with another woman. _And that woman wasn’t Olivia._

“Oh,” she sighed as her eyes fell to where her hand rested on him. 

“Does that upset you?”

“No,” she laughed as she kissed the side of his face and then sat up to get dressed, “what bothers me is that you aren’t making use of all my _services,_ ” she said as she pulled a shirt over her body. 

“I’d be willing to try,” he said as he thought about how his knuckles couldn’t handle another encounter with the lockers. 

“That’s great, Stabler,” she said as she stood. He hated when she used his last name. _Hendrix and Stabler._ It didn’t sound right. 

“Isn’t it against the law to be sleeping with patients though?” 

“Well it’s not like we’re exactly public with this thing, so I think it’s okay,” she said. 

“Right,” he said as he watched her leave his room, and he thought about how he missed his twenty-year-old mattress with the dip of his body carved in its springs. 

~

Elliot sat at the pizza parlor as he waited for Maureen and Kathleen to meet him for his birthday dinner. Dickie had given some excuse about a group homework assignment, and Lizzie told him that she had lacrosse practice. Kathy told him she had quit lacrosse at the beginning of the season. It killed him inside that his younger two didn’t want to see him. They had been impacted the most. Their home, their school, their lives, had been disrupted the most because of his shortcomings. 

“Dad!” Maureen called as she came into their favorite pizza joint. She rushed towards him and enveloped him in a hug. 

“It’s been too long,” she said into his chest. He’d only seen them a few times in the last couple months. The last time he had really hugged Maureen was on his last birthday when Olivia had surprised him by having them come into the squad room. That was shortly after the separation, when she was still doing everything in her power to keep him taped up and in one piece. He’d been successfully evading her for almost a year. A pang of guilt hit his heart. 

“Agreed, honey,” he said as he kissed the top of her head. “Where is your sister?” he asked once he realized Kathleen hadn’t followed her in. 

“Oh she’s in the car crying over her hair,” Maureen said with an eye roll as she took a seat in the deep booth seats. Elliot used to take Maureen here when her face barely hit above the height of the table. He missed those days. 

“What’s wrong with her hair?” Elliot asked as he looked for Kathleen from the window. 

“She didn’t want me to say anything…” Maureen began, and Elliot narrowed his eyes on his daughter. 

“Tell me.” 

“She broke up with Ethan and decided to cut all of her hair off,” Maureen confessed. 

“Why would she do that?” Elliot said as he scrunched his eyebrows into a line. 

“Something about trying to get over him,” Maureen said as she toyed with the parmesan shaker on the table. Elliot mulled over the words and what they meant. _Trying to get over him._

_~_

_“Your hair is different,” he’d said as she arrived at her desk on Monday morning._

_“Oh... yeah,” she’d responded nonchalantly like her appearance hadn’t been altered in a somewhat drastic way._

_“It’s short.”_

_“It is,” she nodded as she lifted her eyes to him and smiled in a manner that said she wasn’t looking for his opinion. He swallowed as he thought to himself, ‘It will grow,’ as if it really mattered what he thought._

_“Did you have a good weekend?” he had asked as memory of her body invaded his mind. Forty-eight hours away from her hadn’t been enough to purify him._

_“Sure,” she said as she picked up the ringing telephone._

_~_

In that moment, as he stared at his daughter, who always gave him insight he didn’t know he needed, it dawned on him that for over three years Olivia never let her hair grow. His stomach flipped when he realized just how hard Olivia worked to keep herself at an acceptable distance from him, how hard she worked to be _over it._ He wanted to stand from the booth and rush to her apartment and apologize until his mouth ran dry. 

Maybe he was giving himself too much credit, _maybe Olivia just cut her hair because she has every right to do whatever she wants, and her actions have nothing to do with him._ He was a selfish prick. He was pulled from his rampant thoughts as the bell jingled and signaled Kathleen’s entrance. 

“You decided to join us,” Elliot said as Kathleen approached their booth. She huffed out a breath as she took a seat. She had a hoodie over her head.

“Take that down; it’s rude when you are inside,” he said as he gestured a hand towards his daughter.

“Promise not to laugh,” she sighed as she lowered the hood and Elliot gulped at her choppy blonde pixie cut.

“I like it,” he lied.

“Don’t lie to me daddy,” she said as she threw her face into her hands. She’d always been his dramatic one.

“Oh get over it; it’s hair,” Maureen said as she bumped her sister’s shoulder.

“I never should have done it, and now I have to wait over a year for it to grow out,”

“You know, Liv wears her hair short, and she’s beautiful,” Maureen said as she darted her eyes across the table at Elliot. He didn’t miss the implication. Maureen looked at him for a beat as if she was waiting for him to agree. He wasn’t sure what his daughter was playing at exactly.

“You said her hair had grown out,” Kathleen mumbled into her hands, and the comment caught Elliot’s attention. He knew neither of his daughter’s had been to the stationhouse since Liv’s hair had grown to her shoulders.

“How do you know that?” He asked his daughters through narrowed eyes. Maureen held his stare and smirked.

“I had dinner with her several months ago,” Maureen said as she folded her napkin on her lap like she was proud of herself.

“Why?”

“I wanted to see her,” Maureen shrugged, and before Elliot could continue his line of questioning their waitress approached to take their order. He felt his fists tightening as he listened to his daughters place their dinner order.

“Why?” Elliot repeated once the waitress left their table.

“Why what?” Maureen challenged with a grin. She knew what; she just wanted to test him.

“Why did you have dinner with my partner?” he said as he cleared his throat.

“Are you jealous or something?” she asked with a shit-eating grin on her face that made him more irritated. She thought this was _funny._

“Maureen,” he used her name in order to gain control over the situation.

“Relax dad, let’s just enjoy your birthday dinner,” she smiled, and Kathleen finally lifted her face from her hands. He’d be asking Olivia what that was about, _later._

“So tell me what happened with Ethan,” Elliot asked because he couldn’t help himself.

~

Elliot returned to the silence of his apartment. It was 9:00 p.m. on his birthday, and he wished he was home, surrounded by all his kids. He flicked on the kitchen light and leaned over his sink as he shoved his leftover cake into his mouth. 

He was glad no one was there to see him like this. He paced to his living room and gripped his phone in his hand as he considered whether or not he should call her. 

_“Hey Liv, just calling to see what you are doing on my birthday evening,”_

_“Hey Liv, why did you have dinner with my daughter and not tell me about it?”_

_“Hey Liv, did you cut your hair six years ago because I’m an asshole.”_

He decided to dial her number and work out what he was going to say once she answered. 

“You okay?” she asked as she picked up the phone, and her question startled him. When had that become how she answered his calls? Usually it was _‘yeah, El’ or ‘what we got’_ never _‘you okay’_

“Um...yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he said as he paced his living room. 

“What’s up.” 

“I had dinner with the girls tonight, and I was thinking about how I haven’t had dinner with you in a while…”

“You had dinner with me yesterday at work.” 

“Right, I meant dinner outside of the squad room,” he said, and he could hear her contemplating on the other line. He knew he was poking at something he wasn’t sure he should be touching, but somehow, he’d come up with the nerve to dial her tonight. 

“Okay.”

“I was thinking we could get takeout, and you could see my apartment,” he said as he looked at the empty walls around him. 

“Elliot…”

“You used to come over for dinner sometimes.”

“Yeah, to see Kathy and your kids, to remind myself why I bother looking out for you every day. I see enough of just you,” she laughed into the phone, but he could tell she didn’t mean it. 

“You know we’ve been working together for eight years. Our anniversary was last month.”

“Our anniversary,” she laughed into the phone and he reveled in the sound of her rare joy. 

“Well, what else do you want me to call it,” he laughed back as he tried to picture where she was. He wondered if she was sitting in her living room or if she was already laying in her bed. He wondered what she looked like in pajamas. The thought of his partner in pajamas made him smile. 

“So are you suggesting that you owe me dinner after having to put up with you for all this time?”

“Precisely,” he said as he tapped his foot anxiously. After a beat of silence he added, “You deserve a medal, Liv.” 

“You’re not that bad,” she replied in a soft tone, and it stilled his shaking leg. 

“So, take out at my place sometime,” he tried to confirm with her. He heard her inhale. 

“Sure...if we ever get a night off,” she added. 

“Deal,” he said as he looked around his apartment and tried to picture her standing in it. He’d been living there for almost a year, and she didn’t even know the address. He was worried what she’d think, that she’d be disappointed in him. 

“I’m going to let you go,” she said, and he could hear her body shuffle against her bed. He wished he could talk to her all night and then he realized that there was nothing stopping him from that. 

“Night, Liv.”

“Night, El, oh and happy birthday,” she said, and then the line disconnected. 

~

_11 Days Later / October 31st, 2005_

“Men just need to go to therapy. I think that would solve a lot of the world’s problems,” Olivia said as she squeezed ketchup on a street-vendor hot dog. He gulped at her words; _did she know about his sessions with Rebecca?_

“El, are you listening to me,” she said as she waved a hand in front of his face. 

“Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted relish,” 

“Of course,” he snapped like he was irritated that she didn’t just assume that. 

“Well I know you’ve been having heartburn,” she said as she passed him his lunch, and he grumbled a thank you to her. 

“What’s your problem today?” she asked as she started walking towards their car. 

“It’s Halloween, the worst night of the year, and Cragen is probably going to have us catching,” he said as he took the passenger side. 

“Why do you hate Halloween?” 

“I used to love it, when we dressed the kids up and walked them around before sundown. Now my daughters want to be black cats and sexy cops.” 

“Sexy cops, huh,” she laughed as she pulled the squad car out into the oncoming traffic. They had to drive to the west village for a witness statement. 

“What did you go as when you were a teenager, a sexy cop?” he asked as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. 

“Believe it or not I didn’t always want to be a cop. One year I went as a hippie, almost got busted for a joint,” she said. 

“How’d you avoid that?”

“Scuffed it out with my fringe boot when I saw the cop light in the distance,” she said as she shot him a smile. She’d been in a good mood lately. He caught himself wondering if it had to do with her personal life. He let his eyes fall to her abdomen, it was becoming an irrational fear of his that one day she would walk into the squad room months pregnant with another man’s child. 

“We never would have been friends,” he said as he thought about himself as a teenager, the brief time where he was just _Elliot._ Not a father or a husband, just a dorky teenager with acne and no game. 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You would have scared the shit out of me,” he said as he let his eyes rest on her for a minute. _She still did._

_~_

When they got back to the 1-6 it was almost sundown, and they knew calls would be rolling in soon. Fin was sorting through candy on his desk, and he tossed them each some pieces as they entered. 

“You two can get out of here,” Cragen said to them before they’d even settled at their desks. 

“Funny,” Elliot said as he clicked a pen with nervous energy. 

“No, I’m serious; the lines are quiet so far, and Munch and Fin both owe me some overtime. If we catch anything serious, I’ll call you guys,” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Olivia said as she stood and began to collect her things. 

As they were walking outside the precinct, Elliot posed the question that was on his mind. 

“So we both have the night off,” he said as she turned around and looked at him. “Remember the phone call…,” he began in case she had forgotten.

“I remember.” 

“In the mood for some take out?” He was so worried she was going to say no. He held his hands in his overcoat and prayed his body language wasn’t giving him up. 

“I could go for some take out.” 

~

“It’s a nice place,” she said as she dropped her coat on the hook in his doorway. 

“You think so?” he asked as he trailed where her eyes were looking. 

“You might be a worse decorator than me,” she laughed as she stepped further into his space. 

“I think I’m a little better than you,” he joked as he led her into the living room. 

“Born in the U.S.A.” she laughed as she looked at the Bruce Springsteen vinyl record, he had hanging above his couch. It was off-centered, but he was proud that he’d managed to hang it by himself. “You can be so predictable,” she said as she sat down on his couch. She was still wearing her work jeans, her mini badge clipped to her belt loop. 

“Maureen was conceived to _Darlington County_ ,” he said, and he watched her face twist with the information. He stood with his arms crossed in the middle of his living room as he watched her try to make herself comfortable on his couch. 

“Really Elliot,” she laughed as she shook her head.

“What!” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Everyone knows the best sex songs on the album are ‘Cover me’or ‘I’m on fire’ _,_ ” she said as she tucked her legs beneath her. He wasn’t sure when she had taken her boots off. 

“‘I’m on fire’is a short song,” he said with a raised eyebrow. 

“Women have to keep their expectations low,” she laughed, and he couldn’t help but think about what Kathy’s expectations had been of him that first time. Surely, she never _expected_ to get pregnant and have to spend the better half of her life beside a seventeen-year-old kid she hardly knew. 

“Ah,” he said as he stared at her for a minute. He’d been avoiding her for the _better part_ of a year, and now she was sitting before him discussing the songs they had sex to in high school. Sometimes he didn’t know where to begin with her. It was like they were talking about nothing and everything all at once. 

“What do you want me to order you?” 

“Surprise me,” she said, and he took her word for it and paced into his kitchen to place the order. She knew that he knew what she liked. 

When he returned, he brought her a beer. He decided to sit on the recliner chair across from the couch. He wanted to sit next to her, he wanted to lay her body across the length of the sofa, he wanted to cover her, and he wanted to press his lips to her empty abdomen to make sure she was still available to him. _He could_ ; there was technically nothing stopping him. Aside from the fact that he was still legally married, and the fact that she had placed him so firmly in the partnership zone that he felt awkward having a conversation with her. He missed the early days when everything between them just _flowed_. Over the years they had created such an impasse between themselves that he didn’t know where to begin bridging the distance. He missed the Olivia he used to tease about haunting, he missed her oversized suits, he missed the way she’d look to him every time before questioning their suspect, he missed the way she would pat his arm like it made her feel better to know he was beside her. He missed the Olivia he knew before that night in the hallway. He missed how she trusted him not to hurt her, _not to hurt her heart._ He missed the longer hair he ran his fingers through. 

Her hair was longer again, after six years it was back to the length it had been those first couple of years, and he wanted to tangle his fingers in it again. 

“Have you talked to Kathy recently?” her voice was small, and she cut off her own question by taking a sip from her long-necked bottle. 

“Somewhat, she wants to file.”

“I’m sorry, Elliot,” she said, and her pain for him was sincere. He tipped his bottle in her direction as a way of saying _it is what it is._

“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked, followed by a long pull from his bottle. 

“Not really,” she settled on, and then a silence dragged between them. He prayed the delivery would be quick so they could fill the space between them with food. 

“Your hair looks nice,” he said out of the blue because clearly it was heavily on his mind. He needed to use their code to say he was sorry, to say he could see it now. Even their code had suffered since the words _Kathy left me_ came between their seamless flow. 

“Thanks,” she said. The word sounded tired as it slipped from her lips. She wasn’t holding him off, but she wasn’t giving him anything in return, _and why should she?_

“Let’s watch something while we wait,” she said as she reached for the drawer on his coffee table. 

“Wait!” he called as he jumped from his recliner and reached for her hand, but she had already opened the drawer where he kept the remote and her eyes had already spotted the journal. 

“What’s this?” she asked as her fingers dusted over the black book. 

“It’s a journal.”

“Maybe you aren’t so predictable,” she smiled up at him with her fingers still resting on his biggest secret from her. 

“How long have you been keeping it?”

“Just recently.”

“Why?”

“It’s for therapy, for my anger.” 

“You’re going to therapy?” she asked, and he couldn’t help but detect the shock that skated past her eyes. He inhaled, knowing she was edging towards a name he didn’t want her to unearth. 

“Yes.”

“Huang?” she asked, and he could feel her eyes on his fidgeting hands. 

“Hendrix.”

“Rebecca,” she corrected, and he watched as her face drained of all the color the beer had put there. 

“Liv…” 

“How long?” she asked, and he knew what she was _really_ asking. 

“I’ve only been doing the therapy sessions for a few weeks.”

“How long have you been doing her?”

“Why does it matter,” he shot back as he leaned forward and dug his elbows into his knees. 

“It doesn’t,” she said, and he watched in horror as she began to stand. 

“Where are you going?”

“I just need to use your bathroom,” she said as she avoided his eyes. 

“Down the hall.” 

~

Thirty or so minutes had passed, and she had yet to emerge from the bathroom. The food had arrived, and he was staring at the containers, watching them grow _cold_. He was chewing on the insides of his cheeks as he tried to come up with a way to mend this. He needed her to understand- _understand what?_

He ran a frustrated hand over the length of his face as he stood to go check on her. 

“Liv,” he said as he tapped his knuckles against the bathroom door that was connected to his bedroom. He’d wanted to get a two-bedroom place so he could have the kids stay the night, but rent was too high for that and to let his house sit empty while he and Kathy worked out their next move. The thought of selling the house where all his kids took their first steps made his heart ache. 

“I’m fine,” her voice responded. 

“How about you come out; the food is here.”

“I had to make a call,” she said. _Bullshit._ There was no lock on the door, so he knew he could open it if he wanted to. He waited another moment because he wanted to give her the chance to open it to him. She finally let the door fall open, and he was irritated at how composed she looked. 

“Who called?” he tested, and he watched as her eyes raised to his and narrowed. 

“A friend.”

“Right,” Elliot said as he fit his lips into a firm line while leaning his shoulder against the door frame. They always seemed to find themselves in passageways. 

“Elliot, move so we can go eat,” she said as she tried to step around him. 

“I want to talk about it.”

“Talk about what?” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest and stood directly in front of him. He hadn’t stood this close to her in six years. 

“Why it bothers you that I’m seeing Rebecca.” 

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“You were just saying this morning that the world would be a better place if all men went to therapy. I thought you’d be pleased I was doing this,” he said, and he knew it was her turn to call _bullshit_ on him. 

“I didn’t think you were listening this morning,” she scoffed as her eyes fell to their feet. 

“I’m always listening, Liv,” he said, and the words came out soft, all his intimidation tactics falling as her nickname slipped from his lips. He could see her swallow, and he tried to read her mind to anticipate what she might say next. He hadn’t expected honesty. 

“I wish you would have come to me.” 

“I’m a mess, Liv.” 

“Maureen called me and asked me to have dinner with her because she was worried about you,” she said as she risked a glance at him. He smiled to let her know he already knew.

“She told me.”

“She did?” Olivia asked, and she seemed shocked. 

“She likes to bring you up every chance she gets,” Elliot laughed as he thought maybe his daughter was onto something both of them were too terrified to touch. 

“You know you can always call me right, Elliot? I don’t want you to hide this,” she said as she gestured to all of him. 

“It’s not your job to pick up the pieces of my life.” 

“It’s my job to make sure you’re in one piece.”

“I am in one piece,” he smiled down at her, “I’m okay.” 

“Yeah, thanks to Rebecca,” she said as she chewed on her bottom lip. 

“You really don’t like her, huh,” he said in a soft laugh as he tried to urge her to look at him.

“You’re married, Elliot.” 

“Thanks for letting me know,” he jabbed back at her. 

“You know that if I was fucking my therapist, you’d be calling the state board,” she said as she finally let her eyes narrow on him. 

“I would,” he agreed as he tried to feel her out. He didn’t know what they were doing. Their dance had become so convoluted. He didn’t know what he was doing. She had him so completely and utterly lost. 

“If you’re ever not, please tell me,” she said in a tone that diverted from whatever they had been teasing at a moment ago. She’d just flipped the page on him. 

“Ever not what?”

“Okay,” she said, the word falling from her mouth. It was coated in concern that made him want to place his hands at her feet. He leaned off the door and let his thumb and pointer finger grab at her crossed arm. He hadn’t touched her this forwardly in over six years. 

“Come here,” he sighed as he tugged her arm towards his direction. She unfolded her defense against him, and she didn’t protest him when he wrapped her into an embrace. He fit her body against him and enclosed her in a hug. _Eight years_ , eight years he’d spent with her, and he’d never hugged her. They were both masters at denying themselves. 

His hand splayed across her upper back. He could feel the softness of her sweater, and the clasp of her bra below her clothes. He let the tips of his fingers cling to the space between her shoulder blades. He leaned his head down so his face rested in the space between her shoulder and jaw. His forehead brushed the gold chain of her necklace. 

“I feel like I’m an outsider looking in on my own life,” he revealed to her as his speaking lips brushed the dip where her collar bone connected with her shoulder. He wasn’t used to being honest about his feelings, but maybe she had a point, the world would be better if men went to therapy. He was trying with everything he had to be honest with her. 

“El, you have great kids, you have so much to be proud of,” she whispered against the crown of his head. He realized, as she spoke to him, that he’d lied to her earlier, he was far from being in one piece. She was so whole, and he was a million fragmented pieces. Her body held him up in a way that made him feel like less of a man. He thought he’d chosen to hug her as a way to reassure _her_ , but now he was realizing just how broken he was. He needed her to fit him back together. 

“I have you too,” he said as he let his mouth press into the base of her neck. He inhaled her scent, and it flooded his crowded mind with some semblance of sense. 

“You do,” she confirmed as she squeezed him a little tighter. She wasn’t letting him go or forcing distance between them, and it brought him ease. _You do._ He knew the real tragedy of their bond was that she didn’t have him. He wanted her to have him, but he wasn’t in any place or _condition_ to give himself to her. _She was so much better than him. It wasn’t fair._

He lifted his head and examined the way the corners of her mouth pointed downwards in a soft way. He wanted to kiss her so bad, but he was too damn broken to fit his lips against hers. He let his mouth part as he grasped for words to come to his defense. She’d done everything right- six years ago and tonight and he was standing there repeating their devastating history.

“I know,” she said before he could try to explain to her why he _couldn’t._ He let his hand cradle the back of her head. 

“I’m okay,” he said and then added “we’re okay,” as he let his hand fall from her hair and hold her firmly on her shoulders. He didn’t know if he was asking or telling, but she nodded in understanding and then stepped around him to go eat their cold Chinese food. 


	9. Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olivia's P.O.V.

Olivia watched as he picked at his noodles and egg roll. She couldn’t believe she was still sitting in his apartment. She should have walked out of the front door instead of into his bathroom. 

_You do- have me._

She picked at her food and wondered how she could come up with a reason to leave. Part of her wished Cragen would call them in on a case. 

“You wanna watch a movie?” he asked between a bite of eggroll, and she couldn’t believe him. She shifted uncomfortably; she was too aware of the slickness between her legs that happened as a result of him resting his mouth on her neck. _What was wrong with her?_ He was being vulnerable with her, and she couldn’t get her mind out of the gutter. 

He’d kissed her neck because he was trying desperately to hold onto something, not because he _wanted her._ If he wanted her, she would have been under him _hours_ ago. He clearly didn’t have a problem sleeping with Rebecca while his marriage certificate still stood. 

Maybe he did want her, but it was _complicated._

_I know._

What did she know? That he had her so completely that she felt weird letting Trevor buy her dinner? That he had his fingers so deep in her back that she was letting her clock tick away while she waited for something, he could never give her? That she knew he wanted to fuck her six years ago, and he wanted to now, but he won’t because of some dwindling notion of morality? She could guess for hours, but all she really knew was that she wanted to get home and be on her way towards forgetting with her vibrator between her legs. 

“So no movie?” he repeated when he realized he wasn’t getting a response from her. _Damn him._ She couldn’t deny him. 

“Sure,” she said as she picked up more noodles with her chopsticks. Wasn’t he sick of her yet? Did he really want her to stay, or did he just not want to face the empty walls around him? 

“You want something more comfortable to wear?” he asked as he eyed her jeans, her belt, her badge and all of their boundaries. 

“Sweats would be good,” she said, and she couldn’t believe either of them. _Eight years_ of perfected boundaries, and they both seemed hell bent on simultaneously upholding them and destroying them. 

“One sec,” he said as he dusted his hands on a napkin and then disappeared into his bedroom. He emerged some moments later and she noticed he had changed into grey department sweats and a navy-blue t-shirt. She smiled at how different he looked like that. All his defenses were gone; he was just _Elliot._ The man who had leaned against her like he was clutching to her for direction. She wanted to give him the right answers, but she wasn’t sure she had them. 

“Here,” he said as he extended a pile of clothes in her direction. She stood and went to change in the bathroom. When she’d hidden there earlier, she’d noticed the woman’s body wash in his shower. It could be one of his daughters, or it was _hers. Rebecca Hendrix._ He was right; she really didn’t like that woman. Anyone else would have irritated her less. She stripped off her clothes, letting them hit the cold tile of his bathroom floor. 

She looked at her reflection and smirked at herself. She wondered if she walked out in nothing how he’d react. Would he curse her out for misreading him or cover her body with his hands? She didn’t have the answer. 

She pulled on the men’s sweats and tightened the draw string as tight as it would go in hopes that they didn’t slide down her hips. She pulled on the navy t-shirt with the marine’s symbol on it. She wondered if he meant for them to match, or if he only wore navy and grey clothing outside of work. 

She walked back into the living room to find him flipping through the on-demand movies. 

“So I’m thinking scream or some horror classic in honor of the worst holiday,” he said with his back still turned to her. He must have heard her footsteps. 

“I love horror films.” 

“Of course you do,” he laughed as he turned around to look at her. She could see the way he grinned at the sight of her in his oversized clothing. 

“What’s your favorite?” he asked as he tossed her the remote to let her decide. 

“ _Carrie_.” 

“Why,” he laughed as he crossed the room and sat beside her on the couch. She could sense the lightness in him now. His mood had lifted, and his eyes were lighter. She was glad she had given into his movie request. She hated the thought of him trapped alone with his thoughts. 

“I guess I relate to being the girl no one liked in high-school.” 

“I have a hard time believing people didn’t like you.”

“They didn’t like that I would get invited to the college parties, and my mom would buy me burnetts.” 

“You sound like you were pretty cool to me.” 

“I guess.”

“At least you weren’t the kid who got a girl pregnant on his first go,” he said as he cracked his knuckles in tune to his own self-deprecating joke. 

“Oh Elliot,” she laughed at his revelation. “It only takes once,” she said through laughs that she couldn’t hold back. 

“Yeah I didn’t get that memo. Three older brothers, and no one cared to warn me.” 

“ _Silence of the Lambs_?” she asked as the remote clicked on the title. 

“She kind of reminds me of you,” he said as she leaned back on the couch and let his legs spread so they were invading her space. 

“How so,” she asked, not sure if she should take that as a compliment or not. 

“Smart and intense,” he smiled in her direction. She could tell he was still trying to make up for whatever damage he’d caused in the doorway. 

“Let’s watch _Scream_ ,” she said in order to change the subject. 

“You suck at taking a compliment.” 

“I’m not sure if intense is a compliment,” she said as she pulled her feet under herself and tried to make herself comfortable with him so close. 

“It’s definitely a compliment,” he mumbled more to himself than to her. She hit play on the movie, and as she did, she glanced at the time. It was getting late, and they were in very uncharted territory. 

“Liv,” he broke the silence of the opening sequence by beginning a question with her nickname. She thought it was funny how frequently he used it, she reserved ‘El’ for when she really wanted him to know she was speaking to him softly, but he used ‘Liv’ like it pained him to call her anything else. 

“Yeah,” she asked as she looked over at him. She was starting to feel tired, and she could tell he was too. Neither of them slept as much as they should. The job stole so many sleeping hours from them. Tomorrow they had to be in by 8 a.m., and she had no business still being at his apartment. They were playing with fire. 

“Will you lean against me?” 

“What?” she asked as she sat up straighter to make sure she’d heard him right. 

“Will you come lay with me?” he clarified as he gestured to the spot beside him. She felt her cheeks warm at his suggestion.

“Elliot…,” she began as she ran a tired hand over her face. The apartment had grown dark, and she could only make out his face from the light on the television and the end table lamp that had a dull bulb. 

“I should probably be getting home.”

“You can stay,” he said in almost a whisper, and her head was reeling. He’d stopped anything from happening in the bathroom, and now he was asking her to _stay._ She didn’t understand him sometimes. It had to be his move; she was in no position to do anything. Yet he was acting like he wanted her to tell him where they should take this. 

She was so frustrated with him. She inhaled as she decided that she’d comply with what he asked, but she wouldn’t put herself on the line only for him to shut it down. _It was his move,_ and she knew she didn’t have the will to deny whatever his call was. She took a moment of composure, and then she practically crawled the length of the couch until she’d positioned her back against his chest. 

He was leaning back in the corner of the sectional sofa with his feet on the ground and knees apart. Her back rested against him and she let her legs stretch out on the length of the couch. She could feel his shallow breaths pushing into her back. She moved her body further into the corner, so all of her weight wasn’t on him, but his arm came from around the back and pulled her tighter against him. They fit together easily. 

“Who’s Munch and who’s Fin?” he asked against her hair. Translation: _We shouldn’t be doing this because Munch and Fin would never do this. Partners don’t do this._

“You’re Munch, and I’m definitely Fin,” she laughed as she pictured their colleagues in their current position. 

“See I think it would be the other way around.”

“No, Fin would never cuddle Munch, but Munch would definitely cuddle Fin.” 

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“What?”

“Cuddling you,” he clarified as he let the hand of the arm that he had around her, rest on her abdomen. It was frighteningly intimate, and she wasn’t sure why he’d done it. 

“I’m not sure, Elliot, is that what you want to be doing?” she asked as she reminded herself no to put herself out on the line. _His move._

“I think so,” he breathed out as he let his hand slip under her t-shirt, _his t-shirt_. His palm pressed into the bare skin of her lower belly and she couldn’t help but feel a pang. She had no idea what he was doing. His actions didn’t seem like they had an end goal and the touch was more protective than it was sexual. She’d never been so confused by a man in her life. She closed her eyes as she absorbed the feeling of his hand on such an intimate part of her. 

Intimate but also _not, it was just her stomach,_ he was making no moves for her breasts. How far could they push the innocence until it wasn’t? She thought they were doing a better job than most people probably could. 

“The date you had the night of Maria, who was it with,” he asked as his other hand toyed with a piece of her hair in a manner that felt possessive. She wanted to smack him. He thought he had every right to her. _And she had no right to him._

That case had torn out her heart and just hearing the child’s name made her eyes flash with unpleasant memory, of the distress she had been in that entire night. _Without him._

“How’d you know about that,” she asked, knowing that he hadn’t been on call that night. He had the night off because Cragen wanted him to ‘de-stress.’ He’d probably called Rebecca while she was fighting to find that child with nothing more than a poor telephone connection. 

“Munch made sure to mention how gorgeous you looked, he said I was an unfortunate bastard for missing it.” 

“You guys talk about how gorgeous I look?” she laughed as she felt his hand draw circles on her belly. She loved the way it felt when he touched her. 

“The whole department talks about how gorgeous you are,” he said as he let his hand leave her hair and search out her hand. He grabbed at her fingertips. 

“What do you think they say about us,” she asked and then cursed herself because she was giving more than she should. 

“I think they wonder why you stay with me,” he said, and she heard the tone shift like a cold draft. He let his fingertips brush her ribcage. 

“Do you know why I stay with you?” she whispered as she felt him rest his chin on her shoulder.

“No.”

“If I were a victim, I’d want you to be the detective on my case.”

“Liv…”

“You’re the detective I would have wanted on my mom’s case,” she added, and she was afraid she’d said too much because he’d gone silent behind her. The screams from the movie invaded her ears. 

“I stay with you because if one of my children were to be hurt, I’d want you to hold their hand through it,” he said as he kissed the top of her head. A long silence passed between them as his hand continued to stroke her belly, his fingertips grazing over her navel every so often. 

“Trevor Langan,” she said, and then she felt his hand still on her skin. He didn’t say anything. 

“El?”

“I don’t like that,” he said, and she couldn’t help herself from laughing. It was a soft laugh that emitted from where he was stroking her. 

“Why not?”

“He’s a defense attorney, Olivia,” he said, and she could feel his fingers press into her waist. 

“I’m aware,” she said, and he was silent behind her. More moments passed before he spoke in a low voice, 

“Do you let him touch you?” The question jarred her. Anything he had ever done before did not hold a candle to that question, not even _turn around._

“I do,” she said as she turned her body so she could face him. His hand fell away from her abdomen, and she instantly felt the loss. 

“I don’t know why I asked that,” he said as he squeezed his tired eyes closed. She let her hand stroke his jaw, _so much for his move._

“What I do in my personal time doesn’t impact you,” she said, and his eyes opened to her face. She was practically laying on top of him, her breasts and belly pressed to his chest. 

“It does.” 

“It shouldn’t.” 

“I’ll let Rebecca know you think that in my next session with her,” he said with a curve to his lips. 

“I’m sorry it bothers you,” she settled on, making it a point to ignore his low blow at her. He gave her a sad smile as he let his hands find her hair again. 

“Are you dating him?”

“If I were dating him, do you think I’d be lying on top of you?” she asked as she let her head settle onto his shoulder and her arms encircle his upper body. He didn’t say anything in response. Instead he pulled a throw blanket over their bodies and clicked off the movie they hadn’t paid attention to at all. It was a silent way of saying _you aren’t going anywhere tonight._

“Night, El.” she mumbled as she felt his body shift. He put his legs on the length of the couch and let them tangle in hers. He pulled her body higher onto him, so her hips rested on his abdomen. 

“Night Liv,” he murmured, and she felt herself fall into sleep easier than she had in months, maybe _years._


	10. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot's P.O.V.

He woke when their phones began to ring at the same time. He was pulled from a deep sleep and became aware that she was still resting soundly on top of him. _Olivia was lying on him._ It was too much for his brain to fully comprehend. He looked across the room to the clock on the TV. 

_3 a.m._

He knew the ring tones meant they’d caught a case, and whatever peace they’d found in the hours before had been shattered. He glanced down at her and took in the sight of how different she looked while asleep. Her eyelashes were long, and her face was so relaxed. She looked young. He found himself wondering what she had looked like as a child or what her child would look like. 

“Liv,” he said as he lifted her with him while he sat up. She quickly came to, her eyes peeling open to greet the worst hour of the night. _Nothing good ever happened at 3 a.m._

“What’s…” she slurred, and he could tell she was disoriented. She ran a hand through her hair and squeezed it between her fingers, as she placed her other hand flat against his chest for support. 

“We’re getting called in,” he said as a touch point. She looked up to him, and he watched as her brain pieced together everything that was happening. She let her hand drop as she moved off him. 

“Who answers first?” she asked as she leaned towards their disruptive phones that buzzed on the coffee table. 

“You,” he nodded towards her phone. She grasped her cell phone and flipped it open, while he hid the sound of his ringtone by stuffing the phone behind the couch cushion. 

“Benson,” she said, and he smiled as he realized he’d called her a hundred times in the middle of the night about a case. He’d always wondered what she looked like while answering those calls, _now he knew._

“We caught a double rape homicide; two Hudson students last seen leaving a party. Bodies were turned up fresh by Times Square trash collectors,” Cragen’s voice rattled off, and Elliot could hear all the details through the speaker on her phone. 

“Be there in a few,” she said as she risked a glance towards him. 

“Do you know where your partner is? He didn’t answer Munch’s call,” Cragen added as they both looked at his now silent phone, where it was hiding in the cushion. 

“I’ll call him, Cap,” she said as she knocked her knee into his. 

“Alright, see you in a few,” he said and then disconnected the line. She flipped her phone shut and dropped it back onto the table. 

“You’re right; it is the worst night of the year,” she grumbled, and he couldn’t help but feel hurt even though he knew she was referring to the crime scene they had to go to and not the evening they had spent together. 

“We could just not go, go back to bed instead,” he said. The sleep was still thick in his voice, and he realized his slip as he said it. _Bed._

“Yeah, and you can pay your rent and mortgage with what exactly?” 

“My great looks,” he teased as he began to stand. He really didn’t want to leave his apartment and go into the cold. 

“You have an extra toothbrush?” she asked, and he could see she was trying to piece together how they were going to play this off in front of their colleagues. All she had were the clothes she had on yesterday, and there was no time to get all the way back to her Manhattan apartment. 

“He’s going to expect me in Manhattan time, fuck,” she said as the realization hit her. 

“There’s new toothbrushes under the sink. My toothpaste is in the cabinet, you can shower if you want, there’s towels under the sink too and don’t stress, it’s so damn early I don’t think Cragen is going to be thinking about where you came from.” 

“Munch will,” she groaned as she disappeared into his bathroom without looking at him. They hadn’t even done anything and had to deal with _consequences._

She emerged some minutes later with wet hair and a scowl on her face. The thought of her in his shower made him strain in his sweats. He’d woken up halfway there, and then that tipped him all the way to needing release. 

“I’m going to get going so we don’t show up at the same time,” she said as she pulled on her coat and grabbed her phone. Her clothes from yesterday were back on, and he couldn’t help but worry that it might be suspicious. They had left together yesterday. 

“I’ll bring you coffee, alright,” he said as he stood with his lower body blocked behind his couch so she couldn’t see the effect she had on him. 

“And a bagel?” she asked as she glanced from her phone to him. She must have been reading the exact location of the dump. 

“And a bagel,” he confirmed with a grin to her. 

“See you in a few, El,” she said as she dropped her phone into her coat pocket. She slipped out his door and into the cold morning of November 1st. 

~

_Two Weeks Later / 4:30 p.m._

The bullet blasted through his elbow, and he hit the courtroom floor. _Not the best start to the weekend._

He woke in the hospital with a groggy feeling in his temples. He was hooked to machines and an IV drip. He was _alone._ He could see from the window of his room that Fin was walking into Munch’s room with a bag of something in hand. _Munch must have been hit too._ What the hell had happened? Of all the places he could be shot, he wouldn’t have bet high money on court being one of them. He also had a third hit on his gun and was probably going to have to submit to some IAB nonsense. Killing a man never sat right with him, no matter how foul or ill, they were still a person. He needed to go to confession. He hadn’t been in years. He always told himself he’d go, but then life got away from him. 

_Where was his partner? She should be here by now._ He thanked God that she hadn’t been in the courthouse. There had been casualties, and the thought that it could have easily been her made his temples pound harder. 

She’d been making herself scarce since the night at his apartment. He’d arrived at the crime scene with her coffee and bagel in hand, and she took it from him without another word or acknowledgement of what was happening between them. _Happening between them._ There was nothing happening between them, and she was being pretty adamant about that by the way she’d been dodging his questions. He thought about calling her every night as he sat alone on his couch. He never got the nerve up to do it. _Her move._

“Elliot!” Her voice broke his thoughts as she came through the door. Her eyes were washed with worry, and he could tell she was carrying all the tension in her shoulders. He was sure Cragen had told her he was alive, but she needed to see him with her own eyes before her shoulders would loosen. He knew, because he’d feel the same way if it had been her in the hospital bed. The way she called his name was breathy and full of difficult-to-identify emotions. If it weren’t for the circumstances, he’d have enjoyed the way it sounded. 

“About time,” he grumbled as he shot her a crooked grin. 

“I came as fast as I could, but I hit every stoplight,” she exhaled, and he could see she was struggling to catch her breath. She approached the side of his bed and stood over him as she examined him fully. 

“Is that arm still going to work?” she asked as she reached for his hand. He allowed her to grasp his fingers, and he was surprised she had chosen to do it. She’d been all about the boundaries in the last two weeks. _Her move._ He followed her play as he let his hand clutch to hers. 

“It’ll work,” he said as he shot his eyes up to her in implication.

“ _Has anyone called Kathy yet?_ ” she redirected as she redacted her hand, and he couldn’t help but get frustrated. 

_“Don’t.”_

_“Elliot...don’t be like that, you know...”_ she said in that righteous voice that made him want to remind her how she’d taken his thumb in her mouth. 

_“She started divorce proceedings.”_

_“When?”  
“A couple weeks ago.” _

_“I’ve got the papers at home. I just haven’t signed them,”_ he said as he gauged the reaction on her face. She changed the subject to the shooting, and he was growing more irritated with her avoidance. A doctor came in and broke their moment. 

“I can release him to you; his vitals look good. He just needs to take it easy on that arm for a while,” the nurse said as she spoke to Olivia like he was her child. “He’s on heavy pain medications, so he’ll need to be driven home,” she added as her eyes noticed Olivia’s badge, and she suddenly lost confidence on who her patient should be released to. Elliot realized the doctor’s assumption and took some joy in the way Olivia stiffened like she was on stand. 

“Sounds good,” she nodded to the doctor in a coy fashion that made him chuckle. When the door latched shut, he turned to her, 

“Released to you,” he mumbled with a raise to his eyebrows. 

“I’m going to call your kids,” she said as she reached for her phone in her back pocket. 

“Liv, they’re busy; they don’t need to be dealing with me tonight.” 

“You ever think that maybe I’m busy tonight?” she said as she looked him directly in the eyes. 

“So you don’t want me to be _released_ to you,” he swallowed as he tried to feel her out. 

“I could call Rebecca,” she grumbled. _So that was what the attitude was about._

“Will you just drive me home?” he said in a softer tone, and he watched her body language loosen. 

“I guess since I almost lost you in the line of duty, it’s the least I could do,” she said as she grazed his forearm with her fingertips. He gave her a soft smile. “I’m going to go get you a smoothie while we wait for the discharge papers.” 

“Peach,” he called after her.

“Peach,” she repeated as she nodded her head up like she was committing another one of his preferences to memory. 

~

She parallel parked his car, and her keys lingered on the ignition. She’d have to take the subway or a taxi home since Cragen took their squad car back to the station. 

“You can take my car if you come get me in the morning,” he suggested because he didn’t like the idea of her riding the subway after dark. He knew she did it all the time, but he still didn’t like it. 

“Cragen told you to take the day.”

“You know I’m not going to do that,” he said as he glanced over to her. Her legs extended to the pedals of his car. She hadn’t adjusted his seat; her legs were that long. She looked to him, her eyes falling to his sling. 

“You want me to walk you up?” she asked, and he was happy she had. He’d half expected her to kick him to the curb in the name of boundaries. 

“Yeah, I could use a hand,” he said, and she swallowed. She turned off the car and tossed him his keys as she got out. They still hadn’t settled how she’d be getting home. 

They climbed the stairs to his doorway, and he struggled with the lock with only one hand. 

“Here, let me get it,” she said as she stepped into his space and unlocked the door. She headed into his kitchen and started arranging his pain medications on the counter. She also dropped his bag of belonging that he had been admitted with. His gun, wallet, and clothes were all in the plastic bag. He was still wearing his sweats and the paper hospital gown over his chest. 

“Want me to make you dinner?” she asked from behind his kitchen counter. He just about spun around on his heels to face her.

“Do I need to get my ears checked, or did I just hear Olivia Benson offer to cook for me,” he laughed as he eyed his partner up and down. 

“I was trying to be nice; you aren’t supposed to take these on an empty stomach,” she defended herself as she held up one of the orange prescription bottles. 

“Do you even know how to use a stove?”

“I can manage,” she shrugged as the corner of her mouth tugged up. 

“Alright, I have to admit I’m curious to see this; there’s pasta and sauce in the cabinet,” he said as he nodded his head towards the cabinet where he kept his groceries. She followed his motion and located the ingredients. 

“You’re such a misogynist,” she said under her breath as she turned the stove top on. He couldn’t help but admit that he loved seeing her being domestic. 

“Hey now, I cooked on the weekends. The kids always said they preferred my dinners over Kathy’s,” he shared with a tinge of pride in his voice. He missed cooking for his family. 

“Just go sit down,” she said with an eye roll, and he smiled as he watched her crack the dry spaghetti in half. 

“Don’t burn my apartment down,” he said as he took a seat at his table instead of in his living room, because he wanted to watch her. She moved around his kitchen with ease as if she inherently knew where he would keep things: _pot, wooden spoon, seasoning, and strainer._ He didn’t have to tell her where to find anything. He reveled in the silence as he watched her pretend to enjoy cooking. Then he decided to disturb the moment. 

“I thought you were busy tonight?” She looked up from the pot where she was poking at the noodles. 

“I was.” 

“What were your plans?” 

“I was going to cook Trevor dinner,” she said as her eyes darted towards the food she was preparing _him._

“So you are dating him?” he asked as he felt the pain in his arm stronger than he had a moment ago. 

“I’m...seeing him,” she clarified as she crossed one foot over the other and angled her body against the stove, so she was facing his direction. 

“Is it serious?” 

“As serious as I’m capable of,” she swallowed, and before he could decide how he should respond, the boiling water interrupted them. 

“I’m happy for you,” he lied as she turned down the fire. She didn’t acknowledge what he said. Instead, she used his potholders to lift the pot and strain the pasta over his tiny sink. 

“He’s a defense attorney; I’m a long way from wanting to be seen with him in public,” she clarified as she scooped a heap of noodles into a bowl. 

“So that’s why you were going to cook for him, to avoid going out?” he asked as he watched her pour sauce onto the bowl. He laughed internally that she didn’t mix it first, she really was terrible in the kitchen. 

“Something like that,” she said in almost a whisper as she passed the bowl across the counter to him. He wondered if being called in on the Maria case that night made her realize she didn’t want to be seen in public with the man who attempts to get off the guys they catch. She slid a fork as well and then made herself a bowl. 

“Thanks Liv,” he said as he twisted some noodles around his fork and lifted them to his mouth. _Good._

“Don’t get used to it.” 

“I’ll try not to make a habit out of getting shot.” 

“Good,” she smiled as she let her eyes linger on him. 


	11. Divorce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olivia's P.O.V.

They were sitting on his sofa. Some late-night show was on, and the host was making jokes that were falling flat. She knew she should go. She’d come up with every reason to prolong her stay in his apartment. She told herself it was because she had to cancel on Trevor, so she might as well fill the evening. Besides, Elliot was hurting, and she didn’t want to leave him alone. _She should have called his kids._ Six months ago that’s what she would have done. She didn’t know how she had gotten to the point of justifying making him pasta and sitting with her feet in his lap. 

“I like hanging out with you; how come we’ve never done this before?” he asked as his fingers enclosed around her ankle. She knew she should pull her feet back; she didn’t even know how they’d gotten there. She thinks he pulled them into his lap, _maybe it was the pain medications_. He always initiated their _touching,_ and he was also the one to shut it down. She was so frustrated with him. His question hit her ears, and the bitter side of her brain wanted to say, _you were married, dumbass._ Then she remembered that he _is_ married. The papers lurked somewhere in this apartment- the _unsigned_ papers. 

“I see enough of you at work,” she said, settling on the easy answer. She had to hold some of her cards in her hand still. 

“You don’t see me like this though.”

“Like what?” she questioned as she turned her shoulder into the back of the couch cushion and faced him, her legs being the only thing between them. 

“Just,” he began as he lifted his shoulders and then winced from moving his injured arm. She could tell the arm was bothering him more than he was letting on. “Just home not doing anything- no perp, no vic, just watching some shit on TV,” he said as he gestured to the screen in front of them. 

“You ever want to travel, El?” she asked as she tried to picture what he did on the weekends. 

“I got to travel a lot with the marines,” he said as his hand moved to her other ankle, one of his thumbs slipped under the hem of her work slacks. 

“I mean just for fun.” 

“I’ve always wanted to see Italy,” he said, and then he inhaled as he added, “I had this whole backpacking through Europe trip planned with my best mate. We were going to go before college started, you know after graduation, see the world and what not, but then I found out about Maureen and enlisted in the service instead,” he said as his thumb pushed into the spot below the ball of her ankle. She processed his words and smiled at him, _he’d done the right thing, he always did the right thing_. Elliot, her partner Elliot, wanted to go to Italy. It made her want to make him pasta more often. 

“I still got to see the world, just not how I thought,” he concluded as he let his eyes flick to the ceiling. She didn’t say anything, so he added, “I don’t regret my kids in the slightest.” 

“You know I would never think that, El.”

“I know; I just don’t want them to think that. I miss them so much,” he sighed. 

“Why didn’t you let me call them?” 

“I just wanted to be with you,” he let drop, and she felt her stomach twist.

“How’d you know I was going to come up?” she said through a forced laugh. She was frantically sifting through her arsenal of defenses, trying to pick the best one to give space but not push him away. 

“I didn’t; I was just hoping,” he said as he returned her laugh. She stayed quiet, and he leaned forward on the sofa, taking her feet with him. Then, he lifted her legs and put them on the sofa as he began to stand. 

“I’m getting groggy from these meds. I’m going to go to bed,” he announced and then looked down at her. 

“All right, I’ll get going, and seriously think about taking the day off tomorrow.” 

“I didn’t mean you had to leave,” he said as he kept his eyes on her. 

“You want me to stay here and watch _David Letterman_ without you,” she joked, but the nerves were about up to her throat. 

“I want you to come to bed with me.”

“Elliot…” she began, but he waved off her warning. 

“I only want you to sleep next to me. I’m not asking for anything else,” he said, and she watched him swallow. She wasn’t sure she was hearing him right. _Was he serious with this?_

“Why?” she demanded as she crossed her arms over her chest. _She knew why_ ; they’d both had the best sleep of their lives two weeks ago. 

“I’m in pain,” he threw out with the quirk of his eyebrow and a glance to his sling. She couldn’t believe how playful he was being, as if he weren’t gambling with their pensions and sanity. 

“Should I be insulted by that?”

“You make me feel better, Liv,” he clarified, and she wanted to smack him for the way his eyes sparkled. Despite the awful day he’d had, his spirits were light. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she said as she side stepped around him. 

“So that’s a yes?” he asked as he trailed behind her in the direction of his bedroom. She opened his bedroom door and couldn’t believe she was taking the steps inside. She knew they were inching towards that line that would blow this all up the moment they touched it. There was no happy ending here, yet there she was eyeing his bed like it was all she wanted. 

“Can I borrow something,” she asked as she unclipped her badge and set it on one of his bedside tables. He nodded towards the dresser across the room. On top sat the clothes she wore two weeks ago. She’d folded them and set them there after she’d changed in a hurry to get to the crime scene. It startled her that he hadn’t moved them. She assumed they would be washed and forgotten. Instead, they were sitting there like he had expected her to come back. 

“I left your toothbrush under the sink too,” he said as he watched her. She knew that her shock was showing. _He’d kept the toothbrush. Her toothbrush._ She couldn’t believe how ridiculous this was, how ridiculous they were. 

“Thanks,” she said as she took the clothes and slipped into his bathroom. She opened the cabinet below the sink and retrieved her toothbrush. Among his other toiletries was a box of condoms. She’d seen them that morning two weeks ago, and it made her grind her teeth. _Rebecca._ She knew he wasn’t using them on Kathy. _The only thing I gamble with is birth control_. It also irritated her that he’d tell her to go digging around in his cabinets when he knew those would be staring her in the face. She knew he was living up his _somewhat-_ single life, but she didn’t want to be reminded about it. She also didn’t like that her _toothbrush_ was sitting next to the box, like it had been thrown down with all the other things that shouldn’t be in his life. She gulped down the thought as she used his toothpaste. 

When she emerged from the bathroom in his clothes, she found him sitting shirtless on the edge of his bed as he messed with his alarm clock. She hoped he was turning it off and allowing himself the next day to recover. 

“Where are your clothes?” she asked as her eyes fell to his boxer shorts. 

“I was having trouble getting a t-shirt over this damn sling,” he said as he set down the alarm clock and glanced down to his arm. She saw the t-shirt he had been trying to put on sitting crumpled on the bed. She moved towards him and reached for the t-shirt. 

“Here, I’ll help you,” she said as she positioned herself between his legs and lifted the shirt to his head. She was standing close, too close, but he’d started this, and she figured that if he was going to gamble with their partnership then she should be able to as well. She could feel the insides of his thighs pressing into the outside of hers, and it was sending shivers down her spine. It was too much contact; she needed to back away. He winced as she tried to get the shirt over his arm. 

“Should I take the sling off?” she asked as she tried to maneuver his arm. 

“Is it okay if I just don’t wear the t-shirt? I don’t normally sleep with one,” he said, and she instantly felt silly. _Of course he didn’t._

“I usually don’t sleep in full sweats,” she shot back. 

“What do you sleep in, Liv?” he asked with a devilish look in his eyes. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Tell me,” he whispered, and she felt a pang in her belly. She hated how that kept happening around him. She knew he had the restraint of a saint, but he was testing hers, and she was getting sick of it. _She could only take so much._

“Just a tank top.” 

“Just a tank top?” he repeated.

“Just a tank top,” she nodded, and his eyes darkened. She was standing so close she could almost feel his heart pounding. He’d walked them into this corner, so he was going to have to get them out. She wasn’t going to save him. She was anticipating his play when his thumb latched onto the waistband of his heavy sweats. 

“You don’t have to wear these,” he said as he gave the waistband a slight tug. “The heater’s on; I don’t want you to get too hot,” he said as he lifted his eyes to where she stood above him. She was looking down at him, and she was almost shaking because she didn’t know what move to make next. Neither of them had a clear intention with this, and she knew all too well that the road to hell was paved with good ones. She sighed as she said, 

“Take them off for me.” 

His eyes connected with hers, and he inhaled. 

_He was going to put on the brakes, son of a bitch,_ she thought as she watched him contemplate his life before her eyes. 

Then to either her horror or surprise, she watched him take the mental jump. He widened his legs on either side of her as his thumb yanked down the waistband. The sweats fell off with ease. 

She felt the air in his bedroom hit her exposed skin. All that remained between her and his hand was her scrap of scarlet underwear. 

“You wear those to work?” he asked as his eyes dipped to the silk covering her mound. 

“What did you think I wore to work?”

“I tried not to think about it,” he said with a pointed look to her face. His free hand touched her hip, and she felt her skin goosebump. 

“I thought all you were asking for was sleep?” she reminded him, and he gave a small laugh as he let his fingers skate across the skin above her panty line. 

“That is all I’m asking for,” he clarified as he tugged down the bunched-up t-shirt. His shirt was long enough that it hit past her hips when it wasn’t bunched around the hourglass of her waist. 

“You’re a tease,” she called him out and in doing so probably admitted more than she wanted to. 

“And you’re my partner,” he said as his eyes darted up to her hardened nipples. She’d left her bra lying on his bathroom floor. His words irritated her, _since when was he the one that hurled that reminder at her?_

She stepped out of his legs and rounded the bed to get in on the other side. The t-shirt barely covered her bare backside, and she could feel his eyes on her. 

“So it’s okay if I don’t wear the t-shirt?” he asked as if that mattered now. She was about to crawl into his bed with nothing more than a thong between his hand and her ache. 

“It’s fine, Elliot,” she said as she pulled back his comforter. _Navy blue comforter._ Elliot really was a simple man. It made her laugh to herself that his entire apartment was literally done in shades of blues and browns. She let her legs touch his sheets and her body meld with his mattress. His bed was big, and his sheets smelled like soap and aftershave. She let her head rest on the pillow, and if it weren’t for the tension in her body, she’d be tired. Elliot flicked off his bedside lamp and clicked on the alarm. 

“I set it for you,” he said as she heard him settle onto his side of the bed. 

“Did you set it with enough time for me to get back to my apartment before work?” she asked as she realized showing up to work in yesterday's clothes for the second time in two weeks probably wasn’t a genius idea. She worked with detectives after all. 

“I did.” 

“Thanks, _partner,_ ” she seethed as her eyes focused on the popcorn of his ceiling. 

“Are you going to make me ask?” his voice said into the still air of the bedroom. 

“Ask what?” 

“For you to come closer.” 

“I thought you were only asking for sleep,” she said through tight lips. He was playing with her like a yoyo, and her body was going to betray her mind if he kept going at this rate.

“I sleep better when you’re close,” he said, and the words brought a smile to her face in the dark. She rolled towards the middle of the mattress, and he had already met her there. His free arm scooped under the weight of her body and rolled her into his side. She could only be halfway on his chest because of the sling. His _bare_ chest. Her body felt like a live wire, and part of her was tempted to ask him to take the tension out of her body. _Partnership be damned._

_“Elliot, I want you to touch me.”_

_“Elliot, I won’t be able to sleep until you make me come.”_

_“Elliot, I want you inside me.”_

“How does your arm feel?” she asked instead. 

“It’s alright,” he sighed, and she could feel the way the breath pushed through his chest. Her cheek was resting on his peck, her hand over his belly. She watched as her hand lifted with each shallow breath he took. 

“I’m glad you pulled through today,” she said, and she felt him laugh. His hand was resting on the dip of her waist, but it was firmly in place and making no efforts to cross lines. _Cross more lines._

“That’s nice to hear.” 

“I wouldn’t have wanted to break in a new partner,” she said in a teasing tone. 

“Glad I was able to spare you the inconvenience,” he joked, but the reality that she could have lost him settled over her in an unexpected way. They were both such cowards. She took in a breath as she decided that she was sick of playing these games. She could have lost him for good, and they would have never known what this could’ve been. She didn’t want to live like that anymore. 

She lifted her head just a little and then turned so her mouth was against his chest. She kissed his peck, and then she shifted her body, so her hips were straddling him, her legs falling open around his pelvis. She felt him grow hard against her thigh. 

“Liv,” he groaned as she opened her mouth against his chest. She let her lips trail from his peck down his abdomen, she was careful of his arm, but her mouth was ruthless against his bare skin. 

“Olivia…” he slurred her name, and she could hear the edge in his tone. She let her hands grasp below his armpits as her mouth divulged everything, she wanted him to know. She was getting dangerously close to the waistband of his boxers when he pulled her up by grasping her hair and neck. 

“We are not doing this while I’m in a sling,” he growled, and the darkness in his eyes startled her. 

“I can work around it.”

“Listen to me,” he said as his fingers pressed into her neck, “I have not waited eight years for this to go down, for it to be when I can’t even…” he began, but she cut him off. 

“Let me have the control, El,” she said as she rolled her hips against him. He sucked in a breath and tightened his hold on her as another warning. 

“Like hell.” 

“Fuck you,” she said as she held his glare. 

“Oh you’re trying, aren’t you,” he taunted her, and she was so mad at him. 

“You think this is funny, Elliot?” she said, and he grinned at her question. He let his thumb land on her lip like it had six years ago, and he began to coax understanding from her. 

“I think that when I enter you for the first time, I want the ink dried on my divorce papers, and I want my hands free to touch you wherever I want.” 


	12. Dress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot's P.O.V.

He laid awake in his bed; his eyes fixed on the tent of his boxers. Olivia was pretending to be asleep next to him. At his last comment she’d moved her body off of him and huffed her frustrations into the pillow on the other side of the bed. 

_Fuck._ What had he been thinking? Did he really think either of them could handle what he’d asked for tonight? All he wanted was to sleep with her against him like they had on the couch that night two weeks ago, but now they were both lying awake with arousal that wasn’t going away. He needed air, air that wasn’t filled with her scent. 

He stood from his bed and pulled on sweatpants.

“Where are you going?” she asked from the darkness of the room. 

“Clear my head, going to sit on my stoop,” he said as he slipped his phone into his pocket. She began to sit up in the bed, but he held a hand up to her. 

“Liv, just stay in bed, it’s too late for you to leave, and I’ll be back in a few,” he said as he eyed her in the dark. _Just stay in bed._ He wasn’t sure if he was going outside for himself or for her. 

“Jesus Christ, Elliot,” she sighed as she laid back against his bedsheets. 

“Don’t sneak out the window,” he said as he let the door close. 

The night air instantly helped his erection. He lowered himself onto the step and put his head in his hand. 

_“I think that when I enter you for the first time, I want the ink dried on my divorce papers and I want my hands free to touch you wherever I want.”_

His words were on a loop in his brain. He couldn’t believe that had happened. He couldn’t believe she’d decided to straddle him and kiss his body like she didn’t give a damn about their partnership. 

This was so muddled in his mind that he didn’t even know where to begin in his efforts to find clarity. _Olivia._ He’d always been hopelessly misguided when it came to her. 

He wanted it all, and he wanted none of it. Having her that way felt like giving up everything. _God he wanted her._

He wanted to eat pasta with her, he wanted to solve rape cases with her, he wanted to move her toothbrush to his medicine cabinet, he wanted to watch _David Letterman_ with her, and he wanted his mouth between her legs. He wanted to taste that arousal against his tongue. 

_He wanted her to know that he was terrified he couldn’t give her anything._

He wanted the ink dried on his divorce papers, he wanted Kathy to forgive him, he wanted his children to see him as a hero, he wanted to catch all the rapists, he wanted his fists to not burn with fire when he couldn’t process the enormity of his shortcomings. He wanted to be seventeen again with the whole world ahead of him. 

If he’d met Olivia first or in another lifetime, he would have done it _all,_ the right way. 

~

_16 Precinct Squad Room / 2 Weeks Later_

_“Any word?”_ he asked. 

_“Not yet.”_

_“Ah well, maybe you’re not his type,”_ he said as he approached her desk. 

_“Ah no, he was interested, I could feel it, ya know,”_ she said as she flicked her eyes up to him. He considered her bait for a moment, knowing they were surrounded by their coworkers. 

_“Yeah…”_ he said through squinted eyes and rigid shoulders. _Rachel Martin_ was waiting to hear back from a perv, and Olivia had no qualms about putting her body on the line. He didn’t like the idea of her going under at the speed dating event, but Cragen had shot him a look that said it wasn’t his _choice._

_“Think he’s our perp?”_

_“Couldn’t get a read on him, normally I need two minutes in the box with a guy to know if he’s guilty but,”_

He heard the ping on her computer and came around to stand behind her to read the message. 

_“Email?”_

_“I’ve got a match,”_ she grinned, as if she was enjoying this. 

_“Romeo?”_

_“He wants to buy Rachel a drink,”_ she said with the click of her tongue to the roof of her mouth. His fists tightened; he didn’t want anyone _buying_ her a drink. He wanted her back in his bed, now that the sling was long gone from his arm. 

Things had been tense, to say the least, in the last few weeks. She’d left his apartment after that night, in the early hours of the morning. He took the day off because he couldn’t handle facing her for a while after what had transpired the night before. His next case back to work he caught with Fin, and Olivia had been doing a marvelous job at avoiding him. _Of course she was avoiding him._

He’d stopped her from doing what they both desperately wanted and then sat on his stoop for hours like a coward with his tail between his legs. He’d asked her into his bed, and then he couldn’t even handle having her there. _No wonder she didn’t know what to say to him._

“You wanna drop me off at my date?” Her voice broke his train of thought, and he looked up from the stack of files on his desk. He’d been going over the three victims' statements again. She was walking down the squad room stairs in a black dress that had everybody turning their heads. 

Elliot heard Fin’s whistle from across the squad room and shot him a sharp look. He knew it was only Fin being friendly, but he didn’t need anyone drawing more attention to his partner. Olivia’s legs moved towards him, and he could tell she’d put lotion on them. _The same legs that had fallen open over his hips_. Her skin was so bronze, and the black halter dress was drawing extra attention to her collarbones and neck. Her shoulders were exposed, and he wanted to throw his blazer over her. 

She stopped in front of her desk and reached for a tube of lip gloss in her purse. He kept his eyes on her, trying to silently intimidate her into backing out. He knew she was capable, and it was the best thing for their case, but he still didn’t have to like it. 

“I don’t want you doing this,” he said loud enough that their captain caught him as he walked out from his office and towards their desks. 

“All right, listen up. Fin you’ll sit under in the bar and keep tabs on Benson. Stabler and I will be outside in the van, and Munch will be sitting at Rachel Martin’s apartment,” he instructed. 

“Cap, I think I should be in the bar,” Elliot protested as he turned to face their captain. 

“Olivia, what do you think?” Cragen asked as his eyes landed on her. He could see the way his captain became a tad uncomfortable. If there was anyone who came close to being as protective of Olivia as Elliot was, it was their captain. 

“I think Fin’s got it covered,” she said as she shot him a pointed look. 

“That’s final then; let’s get rolling people,” Cragen said as he waved them all towards the exit. 

~

_“I’ll have another glass of cabernet,”_ Olivia said, and Elliot could hear her voice through her wire. The wire that was likely taped between her breasts. He and Cragen were sitting in the van listening in on the entire conversation. The air in the space was tight. He was still fuming that Olivia had fired at him by letting Fin sit inside instead of him. 

_“No, no, she doesn’t want that, she’ll have a vodka martini, dirty with extra olives.”_ Mike Jergens responded, his awful voice flooding the van and making Elliot more on edge. 

“What an asshole,” Elliot said under his breath, and his captain shot him a look. 

“She knows what she’s doing, Elliot,” 

“I know that,” he growled as he shoved his fists into his coat pockets. The last thing he needed was his commanding officer seeing through his thinly veiled territorialism. Was that what he was, _territorial?_

He wasn’t sure when he started considering Olivia as _his_ , but he did. The realization tilted his axis. She was _his_ partner. He had the right to be concerned, _territorial. Right?_

“It sounds like he’s touching her,” Elliot grumbled as the noise came through their mics. He just knew that prick had put his hand on her leg like he had the right to. 

“Let it play out,” Cragen said as he shot him a look with the corner of his eye. “She’s got to reject him.” 

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Elliot said, and he knew he was saying too much, _was he gunning for a separation?_ Cragen only chuckled like he knew something Elliot didn’t. 

“ _Thanks for the drink, goodnight,”_ Olivia’s voice said into the mic, and it was music to Elliot’s ears. He loved the way she sounded when she shot men down. 

They could hear her walking and Cragen said,

“We’re right behind you, and Munch is already there,” as he began to pull the van away from their stakeout. “Oh and Olivia, the department owes you a drink.” 

“Just make sure it’s not vodka,” she responded once she was inside of her car and outside of Mike Jergens’s ear shot. Elliot wanted eyes on her car, because he knew Jergens would be tailing her, but that was Fin’s job. 

“Hey El?” her voice said, and he could hear the radio playing in her car. 

“Yeah Liv?” he replied with the click of his mic as he chanced a glance at their captain. 

“Make sure you put the cuffs on extra good,” she said and there was a hint of a laugh in her voice. She knew Cragen could hear her, but she didn’t seem concerned. 

“Of course,” he said as he folded and unfolded his hands in his lap. They could hear her music playing in her car, but she couldn’t hear them unless they wanted her to. 

“This is really eating you,” Cragen stated in a low voice as he made a sharp turn. He let his eyes fall on Elliot’s hands again. Elliot forgot sometimes that his captain knew how to read people just as well as he and Olivia did. The man knew his way around an interrogation in his day. 

“Never easy to see your partner on the line,” Elliot said as he tried to keep his facial expression even. Elliot could feel Cragen considering his next words in the confines of the van. 

“I never had to worry about my captain putting Greevey in a cocktail dress,” Cragen said with a light chuckle, and the comment took Elliot by surprise. He wasn’t sure he’d heard his captain right. The two men never talked this candidly, especially about Olivia. It felt wrong to discuss her with the other men in the unit; it would make them no better than the gossiping uniforms. He knew Greevey had been Cragen’s partner at the 2-7, and Greevey had gotten him to face his drinking problem. Cragen had never mentioned his partner before. He realized his captain was extending him an olive branch, a nod at the fact that he understood the complexity of partnership but would never understand the complexity of Elliot and Olivia’s. _Greevey had never been in a cocktail dress._

“Sometimes I wish you gave me Cassidy,” Elliot revealed into the van, and the word lingered with him. _Gave. His,_ she was his, _she felt like his_. He knew it was wrong, but the word soothed his mind. 

“Do you know why I put her with you?”

“No.” Elliot swallowed as he looked at the clock on the dash, he wanted the car ride to be over, he wanted cuffs on Mike Jergens, and he wanted Olivia safely in the passenger seat of their squad car. 

“She wouldn’t have made it with anyone else,” Cragen revealed. 

“I think that’s a grave underestimation, Cap.” 

“I don’t mean as a detective- she’s better than all of us; I meant in this unit. She needed to know there were still some good ones out there,” Cragen said, followed by a pause as the gravity of his words settled down. _Some good ones, some good men._ Elliot clenched his jaw tighter because he didn’t feel like he’d been a good man to her lately. He’d left her alone in his bed for hours while he sat outside because he was unable to comprehend on how many levels he wanted her. Then he’d looked at her at work like nothing had happened. _What was he doing?_

“Munch is a good man.”

“Munch would have sent her packing after week one or proposed to her,” Cragen shot back, and Elliot couldn’t help but laugh and then in a softer tone, Cragen added, “some things you just know.” 

“Yeah,” Elliot sighed as Cragen parked the car in the alleyway. Elliot jumped out, and Fin was already approaching him. 

“She just went up, and Munch has eyes on Jergens. He’s at the back entrance.” 

“Let’s get him,” Elliot said as he and Fin entered the building. 

~

Elliot took the stairs two at a time to the locker room. They’d gone three rounds at Jergens, and the case was shaping up to be more problematic. 

_You should have let him attack Olivia._ Casey had said, like all their efforts had been for nothing. Olivia said she’d take a crack at the girlfriend tomorrow and then slipped up to the locker room. 

He needed to talk to her before she left. Cragen’s words were gnawing at him. He didn’t know what he needed to say, but he knew he needed to see her. _Feel her._ Assure himself that Mike Jergens was far away from her now. He opened the door to find her folding her dress and heels into a tote bag that she had packed for the undercover stint. She was still wearing the light blue shirt she had worn in the interrogation. It sculpted her body and reminded him how much he wanted her beneath his hands. 

“You alright?” he asked as he let the door fall closed behind him. It was getting late, and the precinct was emptying out. 

“Fine, just pissed at how this case is falling apart,” she said, but she didn’t look up at him. 

“You looked beautiful,” he said, and that forced her to raise her eyes. 

“Really Elliot? Not here,” she scolded as she slammed her locker closed behind her. She was mad, he could tell. She was mad that he’d been avoiding her, but she’d been avoiding him too.

“Why didn’t you let me sit in the bar?” 

“Not now,” she warned as she undid her holster and set it on the bench between them. He took several steps towards her and stepped over the bench. 

“I’m your partner; I should have been in there,” he said in a low tone as he invaded her space. He could feel her wall slip a little as he cornered her against the row of lockers. 

“Get over yourself, Elliot,” she said as she straightened her back against the metal, he could see her eyes dart to the door to make sure they wouldn’t be caught in this position. It did not look _partnerly._

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he didn’t know what he was saying it for, _Everything? Nothing?_ Then he let his hands do the talking when he placed them under the scoop of her long-sleeve t-shirt. His palms made contact with her collarbones, his fingers falling over her shoulders, the same collarbones and shoulders that had been exposed in that dress. Then he moved his hands across her shoulders, his thumbs skating against her neck. 

“Why are you doing this,” she sighed as she pressed her eyes shut.

“I just needed to feel you,” he whispered as he removed his hands from underneath the collar of her shirt and let them skim down the curve of her body, his thumbs grazing the sides of her breasts. 

“Not here.”

“You remember six years ago?” he asked as he contemplated picking her up by the waist. He wanted to feel her legs wrap around him. _Not here._

“Yes,” she said as she made direct eye contact with him. 

“I wanted to touch you.” 

“Elliot…,” She said as her eyes checked the door again. 

“I saw you standing right here, and I needed to touch you. I wanted to take you against these lockers Liv, and you know the worst part is, I would have if you didn’t stop me,” 

“You wouldn’t have, just like you didn’t the other night,” she shot at him. She always knew when to call his bluff. He was as haunted by his marriage back then as he was now- he was a _good man._

“I wanted to.”

“Which time?” 

“All the times,” he said as he was brought back to standing in her doorway, standing in his bathroom, lying on his couch, watching her in his kitchen. _All the times._ They were in this so much deeper than either of them could admit. He felt his head spinning. She glanced at the door again as he said, “Come over tonight.” She glared at him and then broke out in a soft laugh. _She thought this was funny._ She was laughing at how pathetic he was. 

“Have you signed the papers?” She already knew the answer, he could tell she _knew_ by the condescending tone she took with him. 

“Liv...”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Elliot. I didn’t ask for one,” she said, and he could see the sadness in her eyes. The papers were sitting in his closet, and he agonized over them every night before falling asleep. He knew he had to sign them, but it felt like walking away from who he was. Once he signed that dotted line, everything he’d believed all these years would be for nothing. He could have touched her six years ago for all it mattered. His marriage would have ended anyway. 

“I only want to spend time with you. I’ll make us dinner,” he said as his thumbs played with her belt loops, pulling her hips closer to his. She seemed to consider his words for a moment before a dark look came over her eyes. 

“Kiss me.” 

Her words startled him. They fell so matter of factly from her lips, like she was asking him to grab her a casefile off of his desk. 

“Where?” 

“Kiss my mouth, El,” she challenged as she let her eyes land on his lips. He took in a deep breath as he let his gaze fall to her mouth. _Her mouth._ Her lips were full, and her smile was his favorite. He loved listening to her talk and his mind had yearned for years to know what it would feel like to cut off her sentence with his lips. She still had lip gloss on, and he could see how the corners of her mouth parted in anticipation. He reached for her jaw and let his thumb press into the spot below her earlobe. He bridged some of the distance between their faces, and he could feel her breath. He closed his eyes and exhaled sharply as he pulled away. 

“That’s what I thought,” her resigned voice said, and it cracked away at his heart. She knew him so much better than he knew himself. He thought he could do it, and she knew he wouldn’t. That’s why she’d asked. _God Dammit._

“Tell me why,” she asked in a low voice. _Tell me why you can’t do it._ He shook his head through closed eyes as he tried to find the right words for her. 

“I don’t know, Liv. God I’m so pathetic, I…” 

“If you don’t want me like that just tell me. If I’m just a quick fuck against some lockers it won’t break me Elliot,” she said. They were both using each other’s names in excess because neither of them seemed to really be reaching the other. His eyes darkened as he shoved her into the locker; he heard her spine hit the lock. _If you don’t want me like that._ The problem was he did want her like _that_. He wanted to kiss her until he couldn’t breath and he wanted her to know how much she meant to him. _She’d never be a quick fuck against some lockers. How could she think that?_

“You have no idea how wrong you are.” 

“Enlighten me, then.”

“I can’t kiss you because it makes this real, and we could lose this partnership,” he let drop as he tried to steady his eyes on her. 

“But you can look at me naked, and you can kiss my neck and my hands and touch my shoulders and my waist and my belly, take off my clothes, give me your clothes, invite me in your bed and hold me while we sleep? None of that means anything, Elliot?” she asked, and it was the most vulnerable he’d ever heard her. She was calling him out, and he had nowhere to hide. Her spine was pinned, and she was the only one between them who had a backbone strong enough to unpack this. 

“God I’m sorry, Liv,” he exhaled as he let his thumbs fall from her belt loops. “God, I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.” 

“You have to know…” he began, but she cut him off. 

“I can’t do this. You go around acting like I belong to you, and then you can’t even claim me!”

“Do you want me to claim you?” he asked as he tried to get a read on her. Her chest was rising and falling, and he could tell she was trying with all she had to keep it together. _For both their sakes._ She looked away from him, her eyes hitting the floor. 

“This isn’t fair to me, Elliot.” 

“I want to make it right,” he said, and she shook her head. 

“You will not come near me again until you know what the hell it is you want,” she placed her spread fingers on his chest and pushed him out of her space. She was hurt, and he knew it was all his fault.

“I want you…”

“Just stop!” she cried as she tried to not let her voice escalate too much. “I don’t want to hear it unless you plan on proving it, and the last I checked you can’t even stomach the idea of kissing me. Sign the papers or don’t, but stop playing around with me like it’s something to do in the meantime!” she said, her voice cracking ever so slightly at the end. She began collecting her things and refused to look at him. 

“Goodnight, Elliot, don’t call me, and don’t you dare show up at my apartment. I’ll call the cops on you,” she warned, as she let the locker room door slam on her way out. 

~

_1 Month Later / December 2005 / 16 Precinct Holiday Banquet_

Elliot sat at the round table in the assembly room of the holiday banquet venue. He was nursing an old fashioned that his captain had gotten him. There were upwards of a hundred tables that sat around eight people each. He hated the bureaucratic horse-and-pony show that went down once a year around the holidays. He was waiting for the awards to begin and hoping they would go quick. He scanned the room for his colleagues. Everyone was around mingling, but he didn’t feel like talking to anyone. 

He hadn’t brought a plus one. Rebecca had stopped calling him. He heard through the rumor mill that she’d gotten serious with a doctor. He was happy for her. Kathy was also dating a doctor. It was a lawyer first and now a doctor. He guessed she was trying to make her way through all the professions to make sure that _detective_ was in fact the worst. His papers still sat in his closet like some kind of dark passenger in his life. 

“How are you holding up, partner?” Olivia’s voice said from behind him. She rested her hand on his shoulder, and he looked down to see that she had painted her nails red to match her dress. The party was white tie, and she was wearing a dress that made her more breathtaking. He had on a suit and tie that was too tight on his neck. 

“How bad would it be if I snuck out?” he asked as he looked up to where she loomed over him. Her hair was curled, and it was just touching her shoulders. Her makeup was done, and she had a string of small diamonds around her neck. He wasn’t used to seeing her without her gold necklace. The dress hugged her body like it was made for her, and it had a low dip in the back that gave an ample view of her spine. Her shoes were low heels that showed her matching painted toes. 

“Cragen might kill you; you did that last year,” she said as she took the seat next to him. 

“Got sick of entertaining the uniforms?” he asked as he let his eyes dip to her cleavage for a moment before returning to her eyes. After the locker room, she’d come to work the next morning with his favorite coffee order and a tight-lipped smile. She handed him the warm cup and said with her eyes, _we’re okay._ And they had been. They’d closed five cases in the last month; they’d been working suspiciously well together. Neither of them had mentioned all that was said, _and wasn’t said._ Things were good. 

“You have no idea,” she laughed as she reached for his drink, “can I finish this?” she asked as she sipped the drink before waiting for his answer. He laughed as he watched her wince at the taste. She’d come alone, and he tried not to think about it too much. In years past, she’d usually brought a date. He wondered if she was still seeing Trevor but refused to be seen with him still. 

“I remember thinking how great this was my first year. Now I’m about ready to sneak out with you,” she said as she let her finger trail on the rim of his glass. 

“Did you see the photo in the entry hall?”

“What photo?” 

“They have a whole bunch of department photos on display at the entrance; there’s a picture of you and me from that first banquet.” 

“Really?” she laughed as her eyes drifted to the entrance of the building. 

“We looked so young. I think I’ve put on some pounds I wasn’t aware of,” he laughed as he let his eyes scan over her. 

“You and me both, partner,” she laughed. 

“Nah Liv, if you have it’s in all the right places,” he said and then swallowed as he realized he’d stepped on a potential landmine. 

“Have you been talking with the uniforms?” she quipped, and her smile told him he was okay. 

“Yeah, something like that,” he laughed. 

“I heard rumor that we’re getting an award. Something for case closure,” she said as she redirected the conversation. 

“We’re pretty good at that.”

“Closure?” she asked in a low voice as she looked up at him with her dark eyes. 

“Something like that,” he sighed as he let his eyes rest on her. There were hundreds of people from the department milling around, and he was perfectly content to sit beside his partner for the whole night. 

~

_“Elliot do you want me to wear black or purple,” Kathy called from their bedroom as she tried to pull her look together for the night. Lizzie was sitting on the bed in tears because she didn’t want the babysitter to watch her. Dickie was screaming about needing something from the kitchen. He was trying to get his tie on while Kathleen waved a school field trip paper in his face that he needed to sign._

_“Doesn’t matter Kath,” he called into the bedroom as he scrawled his name across the paper and headed towards Dickie._

_“What color is Olivia wearing?” his wife asked as she followed him into the kitchen with two dresses in her hands._

_“I have no idea, doesn’t matter; she’ll probably wear a pants suit,” he responded in a dry laugh as he tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. He’d been working with his new partner for about three months, and tonight would be the first time his wife would meet her. He tied his tie tighter at the thought._

_“Well you should have asked her, doesn’t she need to match you,” she said as she held the two dresses out in front of him. He pointed to the purple one._

_“She doesn’t need to match me; she’s not my wife,” he said as he placed a quick kiss on her mouth before he bent down to lace up his dress shoes._

_“You don’t have a purple tie,” Kathy frowned as she pulled the dress on in their kitchen, the craziness of their lives flying around them as they tried to pull it together for a dignified evening._

_“Black goes with everything,” he said as he tugged on his tie._

_~_

_“I’m excited to meet her,” Kathy said from the passenger side of their van as she put on lipstick. He liked when his wife got dressed up. They rarely had an excuse to do it anymore so he guessed he had one reason to enjoy the annual banquet._

_“She’s excited to meet you, been bugging me about it since her first day,” he said with a smile._

_“Think she’ll last?” Kathy asked as she tucked her lipstick back into her clutch._

_“I hope so,” he revealed as he watched his wife’s eyes look from him to the window._

_~_

_When they arrived, they found Olivia in the middle of faking a laugh at one of Munch’s ill-fitting jokes. Elliot felt his breath still in his lungs. She wasn’t wearing a pants suit. She had on a floor length, black silk dress that cascaded down her body. The silk was taut against her abdomen, and he could see the outline of her navel. The dress had tiny straps that held the fabric on her body. Her hair looked darker and silkier when paired with the dress, and she had little pins in it. She was the embodiment of darkness, smooth and collected. She was breathtaking._

_“You must be Olivia,” Kathy said as she extended her hand to his partner._

_“You must be Kathy,” she replied as she turned to his wife with a smile fitting itself across her painted lips, dark red lips. Their hands shook, and Elliot felt his clench. He knew he’d be dodging and avoiding questions once he and Kathy got home._

_“So nice to meet you,” Kathy said as she looked over Olivia, and Elliot knew he’d be sleeping on the couch that night. The secret was out; his partner was gorgeous, and there was no amount of denying it that would satisfy his wife._

_Then to his surprise, they hit it off. Olivia ignored him most the night and sat beside his wife instead, as they swapped stories and talked about his kids. Kathy’s face lost its defense, and she seemed to be genuinely enjoying telling Olivia stories about the early years of taking care of Maureen and Kathleen, while he was in the service._

_Olivia fit with Kathy as seamlessly as she did with him, and it let him breathe easier. The two women in his life weren’t at odds. They sat beside the man that tied them together and bonded over cocktails._

_~_

“You think Kathy misses coming to these things?” she asked as she crossed her legs in his direction. Her knees were close to brushing his. 

“I think she misses getting tipsy with you,” he laughed. 

“I miss that,” she admitted as she glanced to where her hands sat in her lap. 

“Feels like you divorced her too,” he joked but it landed heavy. Her eyes fell to his empty ring finger. He’d finally taken the step of taking it off a few months back. _Divorced her._ His mind was there, but his heart couldn’t commit to the finality of putting his name down on a symbol of his greatest failure. _The failure of his marriage._

“I’m going to go find Fin,” she said as she stood and left him to contemplate how he ended up here, when eight years ago he’d been surrounded by all the people he held dear, now he was _alone._


	13. Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olivia's P.O.V.

_Spring 2006_

_“What about me?”_

_“What about me?”_

_“What about me?”_

Her own words played on a loop in her mind. She sat up in bed and pulled her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her kneecaps. 

“ _I want a new partner.”_

_“I want a new partner.”_

_“I want a new partner.”_

And then there were his words,

_“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be looking over my shoulder making sure you’re okay!”_

_“I need to know you can do your job and not wait for me to come to the rescue!”_

_“You and this job are about the only things I’ve got anymore. I don’t want to wreck that.”_

Her body ached all over, and her neck itched under her butterfly stitch. She wanted to rip it off and pour alcohol into the wound, the wound that had started this mess. She rocked her chest into her folded legs as she felt the cries consume her body. 

She didn’t know why she was crying. _She’d lived. He’d lived._ But they almost hadn’t. She’d held that gun in his direction as his eyes bored holes into her. She knew she would never recover from the wounds he’d given her. The thought of losing him had filleted her into pieces she didn’t recognize. 

“ _It’s alright”_

_“It’s alright”_

_“It’s alright, Liv,”_

She clutched her hands against her ears as she tried to get his voice out of her head. It was not alright. Nothing about any of this was _alright._ They’d both been at fault; they’d both chosen each other over the job. _They couldn’t be partners._ She cried into her knees and hated herself for being so broken over this. She knew it was coming. They’d been dancing around each other for half a year, keeping up the facade that nothing of an unprofessional nature had ever happened between them. 

_“I think that when I enter you for the first time, I want the ink dried on my divorce papers, and I want my hands free to touch you wherever I want.”_

He’d said that while she sat on top of his aroused body, and then neither of them did a damn thing about it for six whole months. And then they almost died, she almost had to laugh. He’d wanted her to take his life, like it wouldn’t have taken hers too, in one single shot. He had no idea what he’d asked of her. _Didn’t he know it would kill her just the same?_

_“What about me?”_

That was why she marched into Cragen’s office and requested the change, because he had no idea how deeply he’d ruined her. 

Maureen’s words followed her the whole way to Cragen’s door. _“Promise me you won’t ever leave him too; he couldn’t handle it.”_

_She couldn’t handle it._

She couldn’t handle it anymore- the waiting, the months of waiting, to hear he had signed the papers. If she was being honest with herself, she laid in bed at night waiting to hear the knock on her door, waiting for him to come take what was already his. 

She didn’t want him to have that hold over her, but no matter how many times she told herself he didn’t, no matter how many men she let have her in his place, his hold- that force that tethered her to him, was still the strongest. 

And she’d just cut it, cut that tie and let him go.

_“I want a new partner.”_

She didn’t want a new partner. She wanted Elliot to suffer for how bad he’d hurt her. He thought he could expect her to not pick him when he’d picked her. She was sick of him expecting her to be the stronger of the two of them. It wasn’t her job to prove to everyone around them that they were _just_ partners, especially not when he’d never held up his end of the bargain. She wasn’t going to ease his guilt over their dependency by putting a bullet through a man who had a gun to his head. _How dare he expect that of her?_ She’d pick him every time, and they both knew it. 

She was sick of waiting around for him to sort through whatever it was he felt for her. She felt for him; she felt so much that it hurt. She wasn’t going to deny it, and she surely wasn’t going to kill him to keep their secret. 

_Everybody already knew_ \- _Elliot and Olivia are such damned fools that they couldn’t do their jobs, they’d cost civilian life, they screamed at each other in hallways, and neither of them would have taken that shot._ She wouldn’t have taken that shot, and who would have expected her to? She’d spent eight years beside him, of course he mattered to her, it was hardly a secret. The only one who seemed angry over these facts was Elliot. 

What would he have wanted her to say at his funeral? Would he have been angry with her if she shed tears over his grave? Would he have thought it wasn’t her place to grieve him? Would he have grieved her if the tables had been turned? 

Of course he would have. He would’ve assaulted the florist and kicked down the empty chairs at her ceremony. The chairs that should have been filed with her mourning family, but she didn’t have any, she only had _him._ He would have torn patches of grass from her grave site, he would have driven there after work, he would have sat with her late into the night while his family wondered where he’d gone, and maybe Kathy would even take him back because he had nowhere else to turn. Everyone would walk on glass around him, and the whispers would sound like: _he lost his partner, he’s hurting, he loved her._

_He loved her._

_It was no secret._

And what would they say if the tables were turned? She’d have sat beside his wife and maybe his mother. His daughters would have hugged her, and his son would have wondered why she was there, _she wasn’t his mother, just a strange woman his father worked with._ She would have held back any emotion because she would have had to be strong for his _family._ They all would have secretly resented her because he’d died on her watch. She would have approached his casket, and maybe she would have touched the metal, the most she would ever get of him. She’d go home alone, and maybe she’d open a bottle, if anything could drive her to be like her mother it would be losing him. And what would they say: _she has no one now that he’s gone, it’s not fair to his family that she wasn’t able to save him, she might have been in love with her married partner, she hasn’t let another man touch her since, poor thing, how sad, how pathetic. Now she really has no one._

She _hated_ him, she hated that he’d done this to her. She hated how much she cared. As she clung to herself and sobbed, she thought about how she wanted him there. She wanted to curl her body into him and have him hold her. Did he have any idea how much she needed him right now? 

Her phone sat silent on her nightstand. She wanted it to ring. 

Then she heard a pound at her door, the pound she’d been waiting to hear for months. 

_It was him, it had to be him._ She sucked in a breath as she tried to compose herself. She unfolded her legs and reached for the short silk robe she had lying beside her bed. All she had on was a tank top and panties. She swiped the moisture from her eyes as she headed towards her door. It would be obvious that she had been crying, but she didn’t care. He could see what he’d caused. 

She looked through her peep hole to see him standing in his jeans and leather jacket. He had one hand in his pocket and the other resting against the door with his forehead resting against his fist. She was reminded of the time five or so years ago when he’d banged at her door and she’d left him standing outside while she cried. _All because he had been worried for her life._ Their problems weren’t new problems. 

She decided she was done repeating their history, so she opened the door. His eyes lifted as he removed his hand from the opening door. 

“Olivia,” he exhaled as his eyes canvased her. She felt the weight of his gaze linger on her swollen eyes. She looked up at him and could see that he’d been crying too. _They were pathetic._

“I didn’t mean it,” he said as he stepped inside. _We can’t be partners anymore._

“Yes, you did,” she said as she stood in front of him. She felt so exposed under his hooded stare. Without her clothes, her badge, and her boots, she felt small in his presence. He stood inches higher than her, his broad shoulders and muscled arms startlingly apparent. Her only barrier between herself and his intensity was a thin piece of silk. He had meant it, and she’d done something about it. Now, as he stood before her, she didn’t know if she should tell him what she’d done or let the betrayal have its intended impact come tomorrow morning. 

“Did you want me to come here tonight,” he whispered as his eyes dipped to her barely covered body. He _knew_ , he knew she’d been waiting for that knock for months. 

“Yes,” she sighed. 


	14. Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot's P.O.V.

**“** _Yes_.”

The way she said it was so soft and broken. He knew he couldn’t leave her in the dark anymore. He stepped toward her and braced her arms as he turned her around so her back was facing towards the door.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he sighed as he rubbed his thumbs into her upper arms. The case had driven him to the brink. He’d never grappled with loss like this before. _The loss of the boy, the possible loss of this partnership, the loss of himself, the loss of them._ He’d been feeling empty for hours, deflated by the heights they’d faced in the last few days. Yet, now that he was standing before her, he could feel himself returning to the ground. Her eyes steadying him.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she repeated his words and neither of them were saying enough. He closed his eyes as he squeezed her upper arms tighter. That moment when she had hit the train station floor had been the worst moment of his life. He needed her to know, _he needed her to know_ , but he didn’t have the words. He opened his eyes to her, and she was looking at him with oceans brimming against her tired eyelids. 

“Let me see you cry, Liv,” he instructed, and the surprise flashed through her eyes before the floodgates finally gave in and tears poured down her cheeks. As he watched her cry, he realized he could count on one hand the amount of times she’d done this in front of him. They saw the worst of humanity every day, and she rarely allowed herself the expression. Even the times she had; the tears had never streamed like they were now. This was different, it wasn’t about a case or injustice. She was crying for _him_ , for _them_ and it brought tears to his own eyes. 

“Ask me again,” he said in a tone so low he worried she wouldn’t hear him through her soft sobs. 

“Ask you what?” she asked through her tears. The moisture from her eyes had met the corners of her mouth. Her nose, her cheeks, and her lips were flushed, and he couldn’t help but think she looked beautiful when she cried. 

“To kiss your mouth,” he said as he let his thumb swipe across the butterfly stitch on her neck; he wanted to kiss her there too. She closed her eyes in contemplation for a moment before she exhaled and said, 

“Kiss my mouth, Elliot.” Her words were unwavering, and he knew he couldn’t fail her this time. He stepped all the way into her space and let his thumb dance across her jaw as he caught her bottom lip in his. He let both his lips capture it as he pulled on it softly. She moaned, and he couldn’t believe he finally had his mouth on hers, _eight years._

He gripped her waist as a way of opening her mouth to his. Both his lips rose to find her top one. As their mouths came together fully, their restraint snapped. She met him with everything that couldn’t be held back anymore. 

Her mouth sought him out with _anger_ and _pain_ and _lust_ and _salt_. Her tears mingled with their mouths as his teeth toyed with her bottom lip. His thumbs brushed away the tears that kept spilling, making her mouth more wet. He couldn’t get enough; tasting her was too much. She bit him back on his lip, and that seemed like reason enough to let his tongue enter her mouth. Hers met his, and neither of them wanted to give into the other. She’d always been his rival, his equal, and she challenged him in ways he wasn’t certain he was ready to comprehend. She was _more_ than he ever could have guessed. All those fantasies faded to nothing as he finally tasted her mouth against his. 

“Give in,” he groaned against her as his fingers curled around her waist and hoisted her against the wall. Her back hit the door and her legs wrapped around his waist, _where they belonged._ Her robe fell loosely around her thighs. 

“You have to kiss me harder,” she taunted, and his eyes darkened on her as he complied with her command. His mouth held nothing back as he thrust his tongue into her mouth, causing her to moan louder than she had before. She tried to catch air between his demands on her lips, but she was breathless, and so was he. 

Her mouth was so warm; it kept pulling him back in. Her lips were soft and full. He pulled back to examine how they were swollen from his work. He grinned as he kissed her again, and _again._ He never wanted her to forget how he’d made her mouth taste. Her chest was rising and falling in rhythm to his lips’ motions on hers, and he loved the way they moved. She anticipated his every intention and _met_ him there. 

He held her firmly against the door, his fingers clinging to her stomach with the silk between his fingertips and her skin. He moved one hand up to her neck and touched the scar Gitano had given her. He let his mouth move over her bottom lip and down her chin, until his lips found her neck. His finger touched the scar first, and then his mouth found it. He kissed her there, and he could feel her breath hitch more. _He’d thought he had lost her._ He couldn’t stay on that spot too long because it hurt him too much. He let his lips find her earlobe instead, and he sucked it into his mouth, and she groaned. Everything on her was _too much_ for him. He kept kissing her neck, and he wasn’t soft or tender. He wanted her to wake up in the morning and remember where he had been. 

He’d been wanting to _mark_ her since the day he laid eyes on her. Her neck was all his, and she didn’t stop him when he let his mouth suck hard against her delicate skin. Instead, she decided it was only fair that she _mark_ him too. Then he met her lips again because it had already been too long since he’d had his mouth opened against hers. 

His body was hard, and he knew he wanted to take her against the door, but he hadn’t come here for himself. He hadn’t signed his papers, and he wasn’t about to go back on his word. He’d come because he needed her to know the thought of losing her was unbearable. He _always_ wanted her as his partner. He hadn’t come because he wanted to fuck her against her doorway. He started to pull away, but she clawed against his neck. 

“Don’t you dare,” she said as her eyes opened on him. 

“I’m not going to,” he said firmly, and she glared at him. She was completely at his mercy, her body pinned defenseless against the door, the tie of her robe trying desperately to hold on. He loved that he had that power over her, but he knew she had power over him too. Her legs were wrapped around him like a vice, and she wouldn’t release him unless he released her first. 

“Please El,” she said, and he took some sick satisfaction in being able to make her beg. 

“You’re not a quick fuck against some lockers or a doorway Olivia,” he said as he pulled on her hair and kissed along her jaw. 

“I don’t care,” she cried as she tried to thrust her hips towards him. He pushed her hips harder against the door. 

“It will change our partnership,” he said, but he knew the partnership was already changed. _There was no coming back from a kiss like that._ He wouldn’t ask for the switch, but it was only a matter of time before the captain ordered it, unless they did what they did best and ignored it. 

“I don’t care,” she repeated, and he couldn’t help but laugh at her softly. 

“How about I make you a deal,” he whispered against her collar bones and then soothed his tongue over her pulse point. Her neck was thrumming with energy, and he was drinking in how on edge she was. 

“Stop playing,” she hissed.

“One orgasm,” he responded. 

“What!” she said as her eyes flicked up to his. 

“One orgasm,” he repeated as he grinned down at her, “how do you want me to give it to you?” 

“I want you inside of me,” she said, and the words almost made him lose his hold on her. 

“Anyway but that way,” he corrected, and she groaned in frustration. He bunched her robe up around her hips to see she only had on grey panties. He let his hands skim down her body, his fingers slipping under the loose silk. He lifted her off the wall slightly so the robe would fall from her shoulders. Now all that was left was her thin tank top and underwear. He could see her hardened nipples straining against the grey fabric. He let his thumb flick over them once and her response made him harder. Then he quickly moved his hands down her thighs. Her skin was like silk beneath his touch. Her legs were impossibly long, and her panties were wet. 

“If I do this, you promise me you won’t run?” he asked as his hands gripped her thighs, his fingers looming closer to her center. She glanced up at him and something flashed across her face before she nodded through her arousal. 

“Please touch me, El.” The sound of her begging made him feel weak. 

“I won’t fuck you, but I’ll make you come,” he said as he let his hand cover her center. 

“Fine,” she groaned as she tried to take a steadying breath.

“Promise me you’ll look me in the eyes tomorrow, promise me that we will still be able to work together,” he whispered as he cupped her harder, he could feel her heat against his hand. She pressed her heels into his backside to tell him to get on with it. 

“Say it,” he commanded. 

“Yes,” she breathed out, but she wouldn’t look at him. He sighed as he pushed back her panties and let his fingertips tease her slit. She was bare, and she was so ready, _so ready for him,_ and he was being cruel for not letting her have him. He kissed her temple as he let one of his fingers spread her open. He added another finger to her folds, and she moaned. He knew it wouldn't take long, she was already close, and he’d barely touched her. He’d try to keep her on the edge for as long as he could. He circled her opening and finally, he pushed a finger deep inside her. He pulled it out and added a second. She was a vice around his fingers, tight and soft, and his brain was working overtime trying to connect the fact that he was touching her this way. _Olivia, his partner_ , _he’d wondered for so long._ He pumped his fingers fast and then curled them in as he practically pulled her off the wall. He watched his fingers moving in and out of her. His thumb brushed her clit, and she lifted off the wall more. He circled her clit slowly and watched as her eyes fought to stay fixed on him. She was so swollen; he knew one firm press would leave her slumped against the wall. He wanted to finish her with his mouth, but he also wanted to make sure they could survive this first. _Baby steps,_ he knew she was a runner. He slid his fingers two more times as he let his mouth fall over her covered nipple. He teased her there with his teeth and let his thumb press into her clit. 

With that, he felt her tighten and come against his fingers. He watched as the orgasm took over her body. Her thighs shook slightly around his waist and he loved seeing the tremor in her muscles as she rode it out. Her legs went slack against him, and he was the only thing holding her up. She was looking at him as she steadied her breath and he grinned at her as he lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked her taste from his hand. Her eyes darkened as she watched him do it. _He couldn’t believe he’d just done that. It would be a small miracle if she ever looked at him again. He wanted more._

“Let me make it even,” she said as she reached for his belt buckle, but he placed his hands over hers. 

“Not tonight.”

“Elliot, it’s not fair,” she said as her eyes roamed over him, “I’m completely undone, and you get to stand there with all your dignity? You can just walk away from this unaffected?” she questioned as her hands clutched at his leather jacket. 

“I’m not unaffected,” he said with strain. He was trying not to think about how _affected_ he was. Her hands slipped under his shirt and he could feel her fingers running along his abdomen. He was tensing his muscles as he tried to hold onto his composure.

“Let me have you,” she whispered as she found his mouth again, and he kissed her back, _hard._

“You do have me, Liv,” he said, between kisses, as he pressed his forehead against hers, only their top lips still connected.

“Not like you have me,” she sighed in a defeated voice. 

“I’m trying to make sure we survive this,” he said as he brushed her hair out of her face. He could be cruel in one touch and tender in the next, _but only with her._ He’d never been so simultaneously tender and cruel to another woman before. 

“We’ve survived a lot,” she said as the vision of her holding her gun at him flashed across his eyes. She’d been so scared, and he’d told her that he knew she would have taken the shot. _He never would have taken the shot;_ how could he have expected that of her? How could he expect her to not want him, when he’d _always_ wanted her. 

“Okay,” he sighed as he looked at her, and she knew what he meant. Her fingers unfastened his belt. She unhooked her legs from around him and stood on solid ground. She pushed his jeans over his hips, taking his boxers with the denim. His length escaped before her and she sank to her knees.

“Liv…” he said as his hand fell to the top of her head. Her hair was so soft in his fingers. The carnal side of him wanted to fist her hair and hold her down, in place. 

“I want to El, do you want me to?” she asked as she looked up at him with her impossibly dark eyes. She was _sin._ He’d dreamed about her doing this more times than he cared to admit and now that he was watching her before him, he knew he’d never be able to deny her or himself again. 

“Yes,” he sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment as he grappled with his guilt. It had been so long since someone had touched him like this, so rare, and he never thought he’d have this with her. Her mouth closed over him, taking his tip between her pursed lips, he watched as she did it, and his heart was hammering. She kept her eyes trained on him as she slid her mouth down his length. He was so hard in her mouth, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. She pulled back as her tongue stroked his underside. He felt the pulsing through his body, and he tried to grasp for some composure. 

She touched him in all the right places as she continued her motions with her mouth and her hand. He couldn’t help but thrust into her mouth. She held the back of his thigh steady with her spare hand, her nails applying just the right amount of pressure as she clutched him. When he knew he was close he said, 

“Where.” 

She didn’t respond, instead she continued until he came in her mouth. He cried as he released himself, and it felt freeing that he didn’t have to hold back in front of her. He trusted her with his body in every way. He pulled her up and kissed her. 

“You are…,” _amazing,_ he began but she cut him off by deepening their kiss. He felt her push against his body, trying to coax him into her apartment further.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” she admitted through broken kisses, and he softly laughed against her lips, it was good to know the fantasies had never been one-sided. After a pause she added, 

“You’re not going to stay, are you?” Her belly was pushed against him, her arms draped around his neck, and he was still exposed. It felt good to stand in her warmth and let her hold him, but he knew he had to leave, so they could both process. He removed her arms from around him, grasping her forearms firmly and then placing them at her sides, so she knew what he’d decided. Then he reached for her robe on the floor and tied it loosely around her. His fingers lingered on the ties as his eyes rested on her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, dragging his eyes from her body, as he cupped her face with both hands and forced her to look at him, “At work.” 

“Elliot…” she protested but he released her face, and he got dressed. If he stayed any longer, he would go back on the promise he’d made her in his bed months ago. _The divorce papers will be signed first_. It didn’t seem like it mattered now, but he was a man of his word, and if he had anything left, it was that. 

“We’re gonna be okay, Liv,” he said as he kissed her forehead, “We’ll figure it out, nothing has to happen all at once,” he added as he touched the side of her face with his palm, before reaching for her door. 

“I’ll bring you a coffee,” he added, and then he let the door shut. He tried not to think too much about the haunted look on her face. 


	15. Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olivia's P.O.V.

_Computer Crimes_

“Your partner over at sex crimes was Elliot Stabler, right,” her new co-worker asked as he entered their shared office. She was sitting in front of her computer going over virus detection training. She found the new work interesting but not invigorating. At the mention of Elliot’s name, she looked up to _Mark._ Mark was drier than a piece of stale toast. She was hoping Vickie would start working more hours because at least she enjoyed gossiping with her. 

“Yeah, why?” she asked as she felt her body tense. A few days had passed since he’d gotten the news of her departure from Cragen. She’d been trying not to think about _him, about how his fingers felt between her legs, how he’d felt in her mouth._ She knew he must be furious with her. He’d asked her to promise she wouldn’t run, and little did he know, she already had. Even as he finally touched her, he had already lost his grasp on her. She knew if things had been flipped, she’d be broken. She didn’t know what to do to fix it. She’d already made the decision for them, _before she knew he’d come to her door and do what she’d been wanting for months._ She wasn’t going to break the kiss to tell him she’d thrown away their partnership because she was angry that he hadn’t kissed her sooner. 

“I was just down at the 1-6 going over some reports, and I saw him assault some guy in the hallway,” Mark said as he sat down across from her. He expelled the tidbit like it was hot gossip. He shook his head as he started picking at his BLT sandwich. “What a hot head, is that why you left the guy?” he laughed, through bites of his sandwich, in a tone that made it seem like he felt sympathy for her. 

“No,” she said with no humor, and he set his sandwich down at her tone shift. “Elliot’s a good cop,” she said as she started to stand. 

“So what gave?” he asked, and it unnerved her that he thought he could ask. She and Elliot were apparently hot gossip precincts away, _great._

“Just needed a change.” Before he could respond to her vague answer she said, “I’m going to go grab some lunch,” and then she hurried as fast as she could to her old squad room.

~

_“I liked that shirt,”_ she said as she leaned in the doorway as she watched him take off his ripped dress shirt. 

_“What are you doing here?”_ he asked as he looked at her. There was so much pain in his eyes, and she hated that she was the cause of it. 

_“I heard what happened between you and Blaine,”_ she said as she tried to put as much understanding into her tone as she could. She’d come to make sure he was _okay,_ not give him more grief for whatever had happened with him and his new partner. _His new partner._

 _“What can I tell ya, he’s a prick,”_ he said as his eyes flicked over her. The weight in the distance between them felt crushing. His words echoed in her ears, _It will change our partnership._ He was right. As she watched him undress all she could think about were those moments they’d shared in her doorway. She wanted him like that again, but she wanted him as her partner too, it was crushing to know that she couldn’t have both. She’d lost her place in his life by thinking she could handle more of him. He seemed to be running the same thoughts through his mind, as he watched her stand there and look at him like he was at the top of her long list of regrets. _Regret,_ that was why he hadn’t kissed her sooner. _Fuck._

He inhaled as he moved towards her and for a split second, she swore he was going to kiss her like he had a few nights prior. Instead, he stilled a few inches in front of her and said, 

_“Why didn’t you tell me?” why didn’t you tell me when I first stepped inside, why didn’t you tell me when I kissed your mouth, why didn’t you tell me when I held your body against the door, why didn’t you tell me as you sank to your knees._ She’d had so many opportunities, and the truth was she’d been selfish. She wanted the moment, and she didn’t want reality crashing through it. The worst of all of it was that she wanted to hurt him. She wanted the blow to hit him when Cragen told him the next day, even after he’d had her in that way. _She was sick._ When did she begin plotting to hurt him, her _best friend_? God, she was furious with herself. She didn’t want to hurt him. 

_“Elliot, we’ve been partners for longer than anybody else here. I, we needed a change…. I’m sorry, I should have talked to you, it’s just, it’s…. too complicated,”_ her words burned her throat as she spoke them. His eyes shone back her pain, and she knew now why it was warned to never mix business with pleasure. _I broke a personal rule_. But Elliot had stopped being business a long time ago, perhaps when she told him about her father; or the first time she used lethal force to save his life, and their eyes connected, cementing their bond; or maybe it was when he cried about the pressure of being an underpaid detective raising a family of four; or when she laid awake all night with fear that he could have been exposed to HIV; or maybe it was when he said _it’s not all about the genes, Liv,_ and she knew she wanted to have his babies. _Fuck._

 _“Thanks for dropping by,”_ he said as he left her standing there to drown in their history.

~

As she was leaving her precinct to return to computer crimes, Fin caught her arm. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked as he smiled at her. She opened her mouth to explain, but realization seemed to crash upon him at that moment. 

“Ya heard about Elliot,” he nodded in his own understanding, and she was thankful she didn’t have to speak the words. 

“Liv, you wanna grab some lunch? Munch is in court, and I’m trying to put off some paperwork,” he said with some caution. She was surprised at his offer. Fin was her friend, of course, but not the kind of friend she grabbed lunch with. 

“Sure, do I get to ride in you and Munch’s sedan?” she said with the raise of her eyebrow. 

“Hey hey, easy, we keep it nicer than you and Elliot’s’,” he laughed as he hit the elevator button. _Hers and Elliot’s._ All they shared was an old sedan that was marked with his disposable coffee cups and her emergency deodorant in the center console. Her mind skipped through all the stakeouts where they’d cranked the heat, busted out the speaker, spilled sauces and drinks in the cupholders. He kept a picture of his family on the sun visor, and she always had her latest romance novel shoved in the glove box. She only had time to read while they sat in traffic between boroughs. He picked on her for reading that garbage, but she knew that he secretly liked listening to her turn the pages. 

Fin didn’t seem bothered that she had gotten lost in her thoughts. She took the passenger seat and examined their car. Their car didn’t have the personal touches, or maybe she was just blind to them. Like how everyone was blind to how sacred the time she’d spent in that beat-up sedan had become to her. 

“Where you wanna go? I could go for a slice,” Fin said, and she agreed. Pizza, deli sandwiches, and hot dogs were their go-tos. She’d tried to turn Elliot onto the finer things, like sushi, Thai, Indian, and any kind of Greek fusion. He’d amuse her maybe once a week, but soon he’d be asking for his staples again, and she’d agree, knowing she’d have to put in extra hours at the gym so she could justify eating on his horrible diet. She was so damn worried about him getting taken out on the job, but it was probably heart disease that would get him one day. 

Fin talked her ear off about his current case, and she nodded along at the details. Hearing about an SVU case made her want to be involved. She felt like she was looking in at her own life, and she hated it. She wondered briefly if that was how Elliot had been feeling since Kathy left him. 

_“I feel like I’m an outsider looking in at my own life.”_ She thought back to how she held him in his bathroom doorway and the depths of her betrayal to him stung the wounds she had given herself, by hurting him.

They sat at a booth at the pizza joint, and Fin was busy dumping parmesan cheese on his over-the-counter slice. Olivia picked at her salad and breadstick as she thought about how strange this was. She’d sat at this booth with Elliot more times than she could count, and somehow it felt like another betrayal coming here with Fin. She knew Fin had motive in asking her to lunch, and she was waiting for it to become apparent. He’d been acting casual, more casual than normal, but she could sense the question brewing between the large bites he was taking of his pizza. 

“How’s computer crimes?” 

“I like it,” she said and then filled her unconvincing answer with a large bite of breadstick. Fin scoffed loudly as he looked at her with patronizing eyes. 

“Why do you laugh?” she said as she sipped her water. 

“SVU is who you are, Liv. You’re really trying to tell me you are satisfied sitting behind a desk with a bunch of schmucks too dense to hit the streets?” 

“It’s only been three days, Fin,” she sighed as his words hit a little too close to home. 

“Three days too many of listening to Stabler bitch and moan,” he said as he shot his eyes in her direction. _There it was._

“Give him a few days; he’ll get over it,” she lied, and Fin scoffed again. 

“Your partner is a piece of work,” he added as he shook his head. The corners of her mouth couldn’t help but turn. Fin and Elliot had always butt heads a little, but they managed to keep it friendly on most occasions. She suspected that Fin mostly tolerated Elliot for her sake. Her smile quickly deflated when she realized he wasn’t her partner anymore. 

“Not my partner anymore,” she said, as if speaking the words out in the open would make it easier to accept. 

“It’s been three days,” Fin said with a slight eye-roll, as he parroted her words back at her. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said, but she knew what it meant. They all expected her to be crawling back to SVU, _and Elliot,_ in a few weeks. 

“What happened with you and Elliot?” Fin asked as he wiped grease from his fingers onto a napkin. Olivia felt her stomach twist at the question. She could hardly believe Fin even cared to ask. She didn’t want to discuss it. 

“Just needed a change from the unit; that’s it, Fin,” she said as she trained her eyes on him. She tried to keep a crackless demeanor, but she could feel him pointing out every flaw in her facade. 

“I know I give the guy a lot of shit, but he’s hurting without you. The unit is,” he added, so he didn’t seem so obvious. 

“You ask me to this,” she asked, as she gestured around their table, “on behalf of Elliot?” she rolled her eyes as she looked out the window that the booth was against. She didn’t feel like going _there_ with Fin. She wasn’t in the mood for confessing. 

“Nah Liv, just wanted to get a straight story.” 

“I needed a change from the unit; end of story,” she said as her jaw clenched. It took a lot to put her on edge; Elliot usually covered that part of their routine. 

“I was there that day too,” he said, and his words confused her. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Gitano,” he said as he cracked his knuckles. They’d both finished eating, and they’d paid at the counter so she could walk away from the conversation, but she knew that would make her look more guilty. 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but it has nothing to do with my transfer from the unit.” 

“Bullshit, Liv,” he said as he shook his head. She looked at him, and she wasn’t sure why he was being so insistent. She always assumed he would applaud her the day she decided she was sick of Elliot Stabler’s bullshit. 

“ _We_ needed a change,” she said in a low voice, and then she gulped once the confession escaped her throat. The weight of her words sat on the messy tabletop alongside crumpled napkins and receipts of this unlikely meeting. She decided that was the last she was going to speak on the matter. Fin nodded in understanding.

“Have you talked to him?” 

“Why are you pressing this so hard,” she said as she leaned into the table. She didn’t care for being interrogated like she was a suspect in a crime. 

“If Munch walked out on me after eight years, I’d have an axe to grind,” Fin shrugged. 

“So you’re on his side with this? You know, I always assumed I’d get you in a split,” she chuckled dryly as she thought about the break-up of her and Elliot’s partnership, and how the fallout seemed to be extending to their co-workers. She never anticipated that. 

“I’m on your side,” he laughed, and she laughed as she took some bites of her salad. Moments passed, and she could feel him watching her. 

“Are you guys involved?” he asked, and it might have been the most serious she’d ever heard Fin sound. She almost spit out her salad as she tried to figure out how to respond. Her initial reaction was to be infuriated that he thought he could ask her that, but then she was overcome with the reality that everyone saw it. It was so damn obvious that her co-worker was grilling her on it, over one of the spots where _it_ had slowly become _more than a partnership._

“I don’t know, Fin; are you and Munch involved?” she shot back as she gave him an angry glare. 

“Stop deflecting.” 

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Because we both know Cragen doesn’t have the guts to do it.” 

“Well it doesn’t matter; I transferred,” she said, as she realized her admission a moment too late. 

“So that’s a yes?” Fin said, as his eyes widened. 

“No! We’re not involved, and screw you for even suggesting it,” she said. “Elliot will kill you, so I’d suggest you not mention something like that ever again,” she warned as she rubbed the moisture in her palms on her pant legs. 

“Whatever you say,” Fin sighed, and she didn’t know how to get them out of this awkward corner. She left the unit, and suddenly her boundaries with all her co-workers seemed to have gone out the window. She couldn’t believe Fin had asked her that. 

“We’re not,” she insisted, as her mind flashed to how Elliot’s blue eyes darkened as he made her come against his hand. 

“Alright,” Fin nodded. 

“Let’s get going,” she said, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up at Fin. She watched him consider his next words. Finally, he broke the silence by saying, 

“You guys are Benson and Stabler; you gotta work this out, and if not for him, do it for yourself, Liv,” Fin said as he tapped two fingers on the edge of the table as he stood to leave, signaling the end of his infuriating questioning. 

_Do it for yourself._


	16. Devout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot's P.O.V.

_That Morning_

Elliot walked into the confessional stand, his hands in his pockets and his jaw wired shut, which wasn’t a good thing, given that he’d come to repent. He hadn’t faced the father this way in over two years. _Hell,_ he hardly bothered showing up to Sunday services anymore. Going to church felt like something to do as a family; he went for his kids. He had no interest in sitting alone on a cold, wooden pew. 

_“Forgive me father for I have sinned, it’s been two years since my last confession…these are my sins.”_ He could hear himself speaking as if he was having an out-of-body experience. It had been so long since he’d sat in the stifling box. In those two years since his last confession, his wife had left him, he’d moved out of his family home, he’d only been able to see his kids on weekends, and yet, the driving force behind him sitting in this cold box was walking into the 1-6, coffees in hand, and Cragen informing him that Olivia had transferred to Computer Crimes. _Computer Crimes?_ The blow had hit him slowly and then all at once. 

_“I was selfish, I was disrespectful, I lost my temper.”_ He thought about how he looked Ryan in the eye and then turned his back on the child when he heard Olivia’s scream. He’d picked her because he knew he wouldn’t survive losing her, he wouldn’t survive never having the chance to _tell_ her, he wouldn’t have survived putting her in a pine box and pretending he hadn’t buried a large part of himself with her. When he ran after her, he ran after the only part of himself he still recognized. He’d been so _selfish._

He thought about how he’d walked in on her naked silhouette six years ago, how he’d looked like he had permission. He thought about how she’d told him, _“you go around acting like I belong to you, and then you can’t even claim me.”_ He thought about how he couldn’t kiss her when she’d asked. He thought about how she cooked him dinner and kissed his chest, and he’d pushed her off, and then he thought about how her eyes flashed with his punishment before she pressed her lips to his tip. He’d been so _disrespectful._

He thought about how he’d screamed at her in the hallway and accused her of not being able to do the job that he’d failed so miserably at. He thought about the shocked look on her face as he spat, _“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be looking over my shoulder making sure you’re okay!...I need to know you can do your job and not wait for me to come to the rescue,”_ when she had never needed his saving; he needed her to save him. He’d _lost his temper_ ; it had already cost him his wife and now his _partner._

 _“For these and all of my sins, I am truly sorry,”_ he gulped, knowing that the tip of the iceberg wouldn’t be enough for the priest. 

_“After two years, that’s it? How about you tell me what’s really bothering you, Elliot,”_ He thought about how to answer. He thought about how, after eight years of swearing to God that he would never touch her, he’d let his hand fall between her legs and his mouth mark her skin. He thought about how she’d let him go there only once she knew she was free of him. He thought about how he’d walked away from her, leaving her on that hospital bench, and she took it upon herself to hammer in the last nail on the coffin. She’d _left_ him, and then she let him kiss her once she could assure herself it didn’t matter anymore. He _knew_ her, and he should have known better than to believe she would give him the chance to show her how much she means to him. He’d kissed her to say he was _in,_ and she’d kissed him _goodbye_. 

_“It’s like I keep losing people,”_ he muttered, and all he could see was Olivia. It had been three days, and he missed seeing her. 

_“Like your family?”_ The priest’s words crashed through his image of her. _His family._ The family that moved upstate and left him to microwaveable dinners and meaningless sex with women that might have been his type if he’d had time to consider what that might be. He couldn’t date when all he saw was _her._ He couldn’t confess to failing his family when the only thing that truly brought him to his knees was _her._

_“My family, my kids….friends.”_

_“You said friends. You mean someone at work?”_ The priest’s question made the air still, _someone at work._ It brought him back to six years prior-

~

_“Forgive me father for I have sinned, it’s been three months since my last confession…these are my sins,” he’d said as he rubbed his hands against his thighs. “I was tempted by another woman.”_

_“In what way?” The Father asked._

_“I saw her naked.”_

_“Who is she, Elliot?” the priest had asked, and Elliot felt his fists ball. He’d come to confess, to be a good Catholic, but he hadn’t been certain how much he was willing to admit._

_“My partner,” he’d exhaled and then added, “at work.”_

_“Are you confessing to an affair?”_

_“No! It was an accident, I walked in on her at work, in the locker room. Nothing happened,” he’d added at the end, for good measure._

_“But you were tempted?”_

_“I…” he’d began, but then closed his mouth, “I’d never considered her that way before.”_

_“How long have you worked with her?”_

_“Two years.”_

_“That’s a long time; you’ve never been tempted before?”_

_“No, she’s my partner. I respect her. We work together.”_

_“Is she important to you?” The Father’s question had taken him aback. He hadn’t expected to be asked that._

_“She is.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I can talk to her about the things that I can’t bring home,” he’d confessed, and he’d wanted to add that she understood him in a way he wasn’t certain he understood himself._

_“Do you think this partnership is harming your marriage?”_

_“No, never, not at all…” he’d spoken the words like oxygen was fading from the box around him. “Olivia would never, she is a good cop, a good person,” he’d said, his need to defend her honor ever present, but he also couldn’t help but picture how she’d sucked on his thumb and dared him to finish what he’d started._

_“But would you?”_

_“Never, Father,” he’d swallowed._

_“Is that all?” the priest had asked, and Elliot knew he would never be granted salvation, because he’d failed to mention how he’d showed up at her apartment and found a glimmer of peace as his lips brushed her skin._

_“Yes, Father,” he’d said, and they prayed._

_“Elliot, for your penance, call your wife..., and consider requesting a new partner.”_

_~_

Before he could confirm that he’d once again found himself in confession because of Olivia Benson, his cellphone rang. 

_“Sorry Father, I gotta go.”_

_“Okay, but you should come back.”_ They said a prayer, and the whole time Elliot thought about how he’d give anything for Olivia to come to her senses and unpack her desk. She belonged in Special Victims. When he held her face and said, _“we’ll figure this out,”_ he’d meant that, if it came to a transfer, it would be him every time. He never meant for her to give up the thing that made her tick. He hated to admit it, but he wanted that damn picture frame of Olivia and Serena Benson back where it belonged. 

_“Elliot, for your penance, call your wife,”_ the Father broke his train of thought, and just like that, he was reminded that he always found himself on his knees for the wrong woman. 

~

_That Night / 6:56 p.m._

“Why tonight?” Kathy asked as she sipped her wine glass over the booth they were sitting at. They were at an Italian place that they took the kids to all the time when they were little. He’d called her, as instructed, and she’d made the move of asking to see him in person. 

“Wanted to get caught up on the kids, see how you’re doing,” he said as he waved a haphazard hand in her direction. The truth was the Father’s words had haunted him all day. Olivia had found him in the locker room after he hit Blaine, and there was so much he wanted to say to her, but he felt his head breaking the surface, his mouth gasping for air and his words completely failing him. _Thanks for stopping by._ Maybe it would be easier to talk to his wife for once. “Father Paul also told me to call you,” he added as he swirled some noodles on a fork. 

“You went to confession?” she asked in surprise. 

“Yeah,” he sighed as he looked up at his wife. She looked good, she looked happy. Kathy was beautiful, soft and caring, and he _loved_ that she was the mother of his children, but he knew many years had passed since he’d been _in love_ with her. Sometimes he wasn’t sure he knew her. Sure, she’d birthed four of his children and laid beside him for over twenty years, but he had no clue what things kept her awake at night, what shook her to her core, who she was underneath all the roles, and children, and obligations. 

If he met her now, and they had no history at all, they’d have nothing to talk about. She’d look at him and only see his shell, and maybe that’s all she’d ever truly seen. She didn’t know what shook him to his core. Or maybe she did, but all these years they both knew that acknowledging it would be the unwinding of their marriage. 

“You look exhausted,” she said as her eyes roamed him. He felt like she could see the fight he’d had with Blaine, even though Blaine was the one sporting the consequences of his fist. 

“I got in a fight at work today,” he said, as he watched her blue eyes squint in confusion.

“With Olivia?” 

“No... this prick named Blaine,” he swallowed as he set down his fork and placed his hands in his lap, underneath the table. If she could see the fight on him, he worried she could see Olivia on him too. The marks she’d left on his skin were just below the neckline of his dress shirt, all the evidence of everything Kathy had always suspected right below his blue collar. _Maybe his wife knew him better than he gave her credit for._

“What happened?”

“He was playing fast and loose with a kid, and I lost it, decked the guy across the jaw,” he admitted, and he could see her find some solace that the reasons she’d left him still stood between them. 

“Where was Olivia?!” she said in an almost accusatory fashion, and it almost made him laugh that his wife was also upset that Olivia hadn’t been there. Kathy had always trusted Olivia to keep him safe. Even his wife held Olivia to this ridiculous standard of being Elliot’s keeper.

“Olivia left me,” he said to his wife as his words to Olivia over a year ago rang in his ears, _Kathy left me._

“What?!” Kathy said as she furrowed her brow. “When?” she added as she leaned across the table. He couldn’t quite decipher the look on her face. 

“Couple days ago.” 

“Why?!” She insisted, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to be honest with her. 

“Same as you,” he began as he gestured at her, “in case you hadn’t heard, I’m an angry bastard.” 

“Well, Olivia was always better at dealing with that than I was. What really happened, Elliot?” she said, and he could tell her inquiry was honest. 

“I chose her over a child; the child died,” he said as he let his eyes land on his wife, waiting for her to piece together what that meant. 

“You thought she was in danger?”

“Our perp cut her neck.”

“Elliot…” she said as her eyes welled, and he was reminded that he couldn’t discuss details with her, she was too fragile. 

“Later the perp had me at gunpoint,” he revealed, and he watched her clutch her napkin. Sure, she’d filed for divorce, but he knew that the last thing she ever wanted was for her children to lose their father. “It was just Olivia and I there. She had her gun on him, and I told her to shoot so he didn’t get away,” he explained, and he couldn’t believe he was revealing all this to his wife. He hadn’t been able to say it to the priest this morning, and he needed to say it to someone. 

“Did she? He had a gun to your head?!” 

“She wouldn’t take the shot.” 

“Good!” Kathy said as she looked at him in confusion. 

“That’s the problem; she should have taken the shot, and I was angry that she didn’t.”

“Elliot, she didn’t want to hurt you,” Kathy shook her head as she looked him over like his reasoning made no sense. 

“A sniper took him out, and we both made it out alive,” he finished the saga, and Kathy was still shaking her head. “If the sniper hadn’t taken the shot, she would have had to.” 

“Well, I’m glad she didn’t,” Kathy said as she exhaled and turned her attention to the back wall. After a moments silence, she said, 

“Is she okay?” 

“She requested a transfer to Computer Crimes,” he said, and then he cleared his throat. 

“Elliot…” Kathy said as she put her eyes on him once more. 

“Let’s talk about the kids,” he said, as a way of deflecting the heavy weight that lingered in his name as she said it with knowing. 

“Have you talked to her?” she asked, clearly ignoring his request to change topics. 

“No,” he decided was the simplest answer to that question. She studied him for a minute before she inhaled and said,

“I long ago stopped pretending to understand that partnership, but I do know, that from all the years I have known and loved you, that you do not walk away from those who need you.” 

“Olivia doesn’t need me Kathy,” he said, as his conversation with Haung flooded his mind, 

_“But she didn’t need me.”_

_“You didn’t know that.”_

_“I wish I didn’t…”_

_“Didn’t what? Didn’t care so much?”_

“Of course she needs you; she’s always needed you. You think I enjoyed sharing my husband all those years? You think it didn’t worry me when the neighbors would tell me she’d show up and sit on our doorstep waiting for you, you think I didn’t hear how she’d call you at 3 a.m. when neither of you could sleep. I’d hear you in the living room, waiting for you to say something incriminating, so I could have a reason to be mad, but all you did was listen to her for hours.” 

“Kathy….”

“You never listened to me like that,” she said as her eyes fell to the plate of food in front of her. 

“She was always just talking about the cases.”

“Oh I know Elliot, but you know what, sometimes I wish that wasn’t all it was, that would make it easier to hate her.” 

~

_3 Years Prior_

_“Linda said she saw you and Olivia sitting on the doorstep last night,” Kathy said from the other side of the bed. The lights had been off for an hour, but neither of them were asleep. He knew what his wife was talking about. She’d taken the kids to the opera. He’d passed on going, went to the grocery store instead. When he’d gotten home, he found his partner in tears on his doorstep. She’d been broken up over the case, over breaking the privacy between victims and their rape crisis counselor._

_“You gotta let it go, Liv,” he’d said once he realized how upset she was. He’d only seen her cry a few other times. Notably, when she’d told him about her father, when she’d told him about her mother, and when he’d gone with her to see if a long-forgotten suspect in her mother’s case could be the man who fathered her. He wasn’t sure why this case was registering up there with those moments, but he knew his partner needed him, so he sat beside her on his doorstep and reminded her why she was amazing at their job. He told her she could walk away, and she responded, “I can’t,” and he knew that everything that burned brightly in her was rooted back to the forgiveness she would never give herself. In that moment he’d wanted to wrap her up and tell her they could both walk away, together. But he knew they couldn’t. His wife would return from the Opera, and Olivia would awake the next day, revitalized to take down rapists, and the truth remained that the only way they could stay in each other’s life was by being dedicated to the job that they sold their souls to._

_~_

_“She was upset about the case,” he said into the darkness of their bedroom._

_“She came to our house?” Kathy asked, and he could hear the accusation in her tone._

_“Yes…”_

_“Did she know I was gone?”_

_“No, she asked where you and the kids were when I pulled up.”_

_“So she didn’t call first, she just showed up?” Kathy asked as she sat up in the bed and flicked on the lamp. Elliot groaned as he sat up too._

_“I didn’t know she was going to do that.”_

_“Linda said she was crying.”_

_“She was.”_

_“Linda also said it looked like you were trying not to cry,” she said as she shifted her body to face him. He could feel the brewing of an argument, and he wasn’t sure how to diffuse it._

_“I was upset that she was upset.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I don’t like seeing her upset,” he shrugged as he tried not to walk himself into a minefield. He knew he was on thin ice._

_“Do you have feelings for her?” Kathy asked as she ran a tired hand through her hair._

_“Kathy come on, she was upset about a shitty case, and we talked about it. That’s it; she left.”_

_“You don’t cry when I cry,” Kathy said in a small voice._

_“Sure I do,” he said as he reached for his wife’s shoulder, but she jerked his hand away._

_“Is Olivia dating anyone?”_

_“What?”_

_“I said, is she dating anyone?” Kathy said in a firm tone._

_“I don’t think so.”_

_“Explain that to me. She’s beautiful, and yet all these years she’s stayed single. It doesn’t make sense; all my friends don’t think it makes sense either. Linda doesn’t think it makes sense.”_

_“She spends all her time on the job.”_

_“She spends all her time with you,” Kathy corrected with a pointed look. He ran a hand down his face because he knew this wasn’t going anywhere good._

_“Are you in love with her?” Kathy asked in a small voice. His hand dropped from his face as he turned to look at her. He felt his stomach plummet._

_“Kathy, she left. Have Linda tell you, nothing is going on,” he said, and he could feel the irritation rising in his voice._

_“That’s not what I asked. I know she left; Linda told me. I know you aren’t sleeping with her, Elliot, I asked if you are in love with her.” He could see the way her chest shook as she asked the question._

_“Of course not, no, I’m not in love with her!” he said as he threw his hands up, but he could feel his throat burning._

_“God, Elliot, you know when Linda called and said she saw Olivia here I was almost relieved,” she said, as a sad chuckle escaped her lips._

_“What?”_

_“I thought, finally I’m getting the call that my husband is a cheating bastard, and all along it’s been his partner, because it’s always the partner, or the secretary, or the assistant, right? And I thought to myself, now I can have a reason to be angry.”_

_“Kathy…”_

_“But no! Linda tells me that you sat and watched her cry, didn’t so much as lay a hand on her, and then she up and left when the house was empty, and she could have had you if she wanted. I was expecting to hear all my worst fears come true, and instead all you did was cry with her,” Kathy said as she shook her head and turned to her side of the bed._

_“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he began as he looked at her turned back._

_“Why does she mean so much to you?”_

_“The job we do…” he started but didn’t know how to finish, “She’s my best friend, Kathy, I don’t know what else to say…”_

_“I want you to request a new partner. You know I like Olivia, might even consider her a friend, but I can’t do this anymore.”_

_“Kathy…”_

_“I’m serious, Elliot.”_

_“I don’t know if I can do the job without her,” he admitted, and he knew it was wrong to say on so many fronts._

_“Exactly,” Kathy huffed as she flicked off the light, and he decided to go sleep on the couch._

_~_

“She asked about you at the Christmas party,” Elliot offered, and Kathy softened. 

“You know I don’t hate her, not really, I just wish she was two hundred pounds heavier and bald,” Kathy laughed as she folded her napkin nervously. 

“Yeah, me too,” he laughed as his eyes connected with his wife, and he couldn’t believe the absurdity of laughing about this with her. Kathy broke the laughs by saying, 

“She needs you, Elliot.”

“She had no issues walking out,” he retorted, the bitterness creeping into his tone. 

“I’m sorry; I’m sorry we both did,” Kathy said as she reached for his hand across the table. He grabbed her hand, and he was surprised at how foreign it felt. He’d held her hand as she delivered each of their children, but as he held it now, it felt like he could be holding the waitress’s hand, not his wife’s. 

“It’s alright,” he said, as his lips covered his teeth. 

“Call your partner,” Kathy said before dropping his hand and standing to leave. 


	17. Dependable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olivia's P.O.V.

Olivia took her stairs two at a time. She didn’t need to be in a hurry, but habit took over. It was only 6:00 p.m. and she had the whole evening to be alone with her thoughts. Working Computer Crimes had given her regular hours, she didn’t know what to do with all the free time. As she neared her door, she thought about taking a bath, maybe she’d have a glass of wine, _hell,_ maybe she’d paint her toes. _She had the time._ She’d thought about asking Casey to go get drinks or dinner but then she decided she didn’t really want to explain herself to anyone. Casey had more guts than Fin, and the last thing she needed was more inquiry into her sudden split from Elliot Stabler. _Elliot._ Days had passed and her phone was silent. She knew he was still too angry to speak to her. She deserved his silence. 

If she’d come to his apartment and made him promise that taking things further wouldn’t send him running, and then she showed up at work the next day to find him in the wind... _yeah,_ she’d be crushed. Not just _crushed,_ she’d be _enraged, violent._ She was half tempted to show up at his apartment and beg for his forgiveness, apologize for how she’d hurt him, but the saner side of her knew that such an encounter would end in them undressed and filled with regret. _They needed the distance._

Her spirits had been low, she missed SVU, she missed Munch and Fin, she missed getting home at 11:45 p.m. with a thread of sanity remaining, she wanted her body to ache with other’s trauma as she stood under the waterfall of her shower. She wanted to feel like she had a purpose. Staring at a screen for eight hours a day made her feel like she was slowly typing her way into an early grave. _It’d been three days._

She missed him. She missed sitting across from him and watching him chew on the end of his pen cap. It was so infuriating and unsanitary, but she’d give anything to watch him do it. _Anything besides the pride she’d have to give up after only being gone such a short time._

She approached her door and with a jump start to her heart, she realized someone was standing against it. She’d rehearsed the speech she’d been forming in her head since he’d left, since she couldn’t say it properly in the locker room, but before she could commit to saying the words aloud, she realized the man at her door was Trevor Langan. 

_Fuck._

“I heard you had new hours!” he said in a sing-song tone that grated at her patience. The last thing she could deal with right now was Trevor. She’d been avoiding him for weeks and she especially didn’t want to see him after she’d had Elliot’s hand between her legs. 

“Yeah Computer Crimes lets me off at a human hour,” she said as she approached him and fished for her key. _He didn’t have one, nor would he ever._

“I wanted to surprise you since I haven’t heard from you in awhile,” he said as he breathed down her neck as she unlocked the door. She wanted to tell him to leave but he was already following her through the threshold of her entryway. 

“Surprise me with what?” she said as she eyed his empty hands. 

“Myself,” he shrugged as he grabbed for her waist, but she turned out of his advances. 

“I’m not in the mood,” she said as she hung up her coat and dropped her personal effects onto her kitchen countertop. 

“What’s been going on with you?” he asked as concern washed over his face. She had to give him that, Trevor was a decent guy, _outside the courtroom._

“Nothing Trevor, just not in the mood,” she sighed, as she placed a hand on her hip and studied him briefly before turning for her living room. 

“You know since you transferred, we aren’t technically on opposite sides anymore,” he commented as he followed her into her living room. 

“We’ll always be on opposite sides when it comes to what you do,” She said with a pointed look. 

“You want me to quit my job for you, Olivia Benson?” he teased, but she could hear the hint of sincerity in his tone that tugged at her heart, Trevor would do almost anything to make her happy and she treated him like he was week old leftovers in her fridge. _What was wrong with her?_

“No,” she said as she sat on her couch, he sat beside her and she could feel his questions closing in on her. She was not in the mood for more inquiry. 

“You want me to go?” he asked as he pulled her feet into his lap and she couldn’t help but think about how Elliot had done the same move the last time she’d been in his apartment. 

“I think I just want to unwind alone tonight,” she nodded, and he paused for a minute before he said, 

“You wanna talk about what happened?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“The Gitano case…” he began but she cut him off. 

“Nothing to talk about, it was a hard case, and it made me realize I needed a change. That’s it.” 

“Alright,” Trevor nodded as he reached for her hand. “You know whatever it is that’s bothering you, I could make you feel better,” he proposed as he pulled her closer to him. He let a hand rise to her neck, and he pushed back her hair. She was about to stop him when he stopped himself, as his eyes landed on the marks Elliot had left on her skin. She’d hid them all week with collared shirts, scarves, and her hair. She knew she was dodging his advances because she didn’t want him to see them. She wanted to curse Elliot in that moment, he’d left all the evidence necessary to refute her denials.

“Who gave you these?” he asked, and she could see the surprise filter across his features. He knew they weren’t exclusive, but it had been only him for months and she had a suspicion that she was the only woman he was currently sleeping with. He’d never indicated to her that there was anyone else, but she still made him use protection in case he was sleeping around. She kept as many boundaries between them as she could. 

“We both said this wasn’t exclusive,” she said as she tried to move out of his grasp, but his hands fell to her chest and pulled open the buttons on her shirt, revealing more markings. 

“Was it him?” 

“Who?” she asked as she looked away. 

“You know who!” he said, and she stood from her sofa because she couldn’t handle him staring at her for another second. 

“Actually I don’t, Trevor, and I don’t owe you an explanation.” 

“Actually you kinda do, Olivia! You’ve been towing me along for months, giving me every reason in the book for why we can’t be more. I think I have the right to know who else you are sleeping with.” 

“I’m not sleeping with anyone else,” she said, and that was technically the truth. 

“Well, that’s not how it looks,” he said as he waved a hand in her direction. He was still sitting on her coach as he yelled at her, and she’d give anything for him to give up on her and leave. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she said, and she hated the way she sounded. He had every right to be mad at her, and she was acting so indifferent.

“Was it him? Just tell me; I need to understand,” he said as he shook his head, and she knew what he was really asking was- _Are you in love with Elliot Stabler? Is that why you can’t commit to me?_

“I don’t know who you’re talking about…”

“Was it Stabler?” he cut her off with the question, and she could tell he was not messing around; he wanted an answer. 

“No! Why would you think that?” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest. She never considered herself a liar, but she knew she couldn’t disclose that it was Elliot to a man they both worked with. She’d deny their involvement till the day she died; _she had to._

“Because you’ve never let me kiss you like that; you would’ve killed me if I marked you,” he said, and he was right. 

“And you think that I’d let him?!” she said in a soft shout. She was such a hypocrite; she had let him. She’d let him kiss a trail so deep on her that no man would dare follow in the wake. 

“Well, who else?” Trevor grated as he leaned his head back and looked up at her ceiling. 

“Look, Trevor, Elliot is my partner. We’ve worked together a long time, and it’s always been strictly professional. I know everyone likes to make their speculations, but the truth is nothing of that nature would fly in the work we do. It would never work, and neither of us would ever go there. It’s not like that between us,” she said as she lied through her teeth. It was the speech she’d perfected long ago when they first started getting questions from colleagues, suspects, and people on the street. Her words permeated through the room, causing him to lift his head to face her.

“Then tell me why you left SVU?”

“I already told you.”

“All I’m saying is that it seems awfully convenient that you leave the unit you’re passionate about the same week you turn up with….” he trailed off as his eyes bored holes into her marked neck and chest. 

“Think whatever you want, but please just go; I’m done having this conversation,” she said as she gestured towards her door. He stood and began pacing towards her. 

“I believe you. If that’s what you say, then fine; I just want to make sure you’re alright.” 

“I’m fine,” she said as she looked past him at the clock on the microwave in the kitchen. 

“I think you should go back to SVU,” he said as he reached for her hand, “I’ve worked against you long enough to know you won’t be happy anywhere else.” 

“I appreciate it…” she said as she looked up at him. There was a lot that she liked about Trevor Langan, but there was also a lot that she’d rather leave unknown with him. His hand found her neck, and she sighed. She felt his thumb brush over the marks. 

“I’m sorry I pushed you on it...I just...tell whoever it is that I want their spot,” he said as a smile ghosted his lips. She hated how understanding he was. It would be much easier if he’d stormed out in a rage. Maybe that would make her want him. 

Before she could answer him, her cell phone began to buzz from the kitchen. He leaned down and brushed her lips as he said, 

“You work Computer Crimes now, so I know that isn’t important,” he smiled against her face, knowing she was fresh out of excuses. She kissed him back softly because she didn’t have the heart to make him feel unworthy, but she knew she was only digging her grave deeper. 

“You still want me to leave?” he asked as he circled her waist. She was so conflicted; she didn’t want his mouth on her with the memory of Elliot still fresh. She also didn’t want to live the rest of her life feeling like Elliot Stabler’s property. _He had no right._ Maybe being with Trevor would heal whatever damage Elliot had caused. It had been days and he hadn’t called. Maybe their partnership didn’t mean as much to him as she thought it did, maybe he was relieved to be free of their complexity, maybe he’d meant everything he’d said on the Gitano case after all. Her cell phone buzzed a second time. It occurred to her that it might be him. Trevor moved her across the room without breaking their kiss. He pulled them onto the couch as the missed call went silent. She wondered if it would ring for a third time. If it was Elliot, she knew he’d show up at her door if she didn’t answer after a third missed call. She thought about pushing off Trevor to check but knew her heart couldn’t take it if the calls turned out to be a 1-800 number or her pharmacy. A minute passed and the phone was still silent. She felt Trevor’s fingers on her belt, and she knew she had to make a decision.

Trevor began undoing her shirt buttons as her landline phone rang. No one called her on her landline. Her mother used to, before she died, but that was about it. Other than her mother, the only other callers were sales representatives or the alumni association at her university. 

“I should pick that up,” she said between kisses. He ran a hand through her hair as he said, 

“If it’s important they’ll leave a voicemail.” He pulled her closer to him and continued on her buttons, pushing the shirt off, leaving her in just her tank top. He leaned back in to kiss her again, as the voicemail tone clicked on. She felt her stomach drop ten floors as _his_ voice invaded the moment, that she was half invested in to begin with. 

“ _I tried your cell but your voicemail is full, you need to clear that out, I rang you here because I know only your mom called you on this number, so I thought that might startle you into picking up the phone..._ ” he paused for a moment and she looked to Trevor, who seemed to be holding his breath. 

“ _I had dinner with Kathy last night, and she told me to call you...said something about you needing me. Told her it was pretty clear that wasn’t the case, but anyway…”_ Then his voice rose, the tone shifting, and shivers ran down her spine as he continued to speak. “ _If you were going to pull the plug on us, the least you could have done was say it to my face Olivia.”_ His voice boomed through the room, and she could hear the raw hurt in his words. Her chest ached. 

_“Look, I told myself I wouldn’t call you until I wasn’t angry anymore...I’m not angry Liv,...I mean I am angry...look, when I said we couldn’t be partners and that I didn’t want to wreck this...this is what I meant...I meant I couldn’t handle having you drop out of my life without a word…”_ Trevor scrubbed a hand down his face. Olivia wanted to jump up and click off the voicemail, but she knew that would only make this look worse. Her stomach was in knots over what he could say next. 

_“...This week has been…”_ she could hear him groan as he struggled with what exactly it was he wanted to say. _“...I know you only did what I threw out there first, but shit Olivia, I didn’t think you’d do it!”_ his voice spiked again, the anger rising in him like a tide. She pressed her eyes shut and swallowed, hoping he would hang up and leave her to feel terrible, but instead he continued. His voice lightened but was still low, the tone he took with children and the fragile, the anger dissipating. _“...I still want you in my life...call me back Liv, let me see you, let me touch you again...… This thing is going to cut me off, but I wanted to say that. I wanted you to know that, if you need me...I... need you too.”_ Then the line ended, and she heard her voicemail click off. She took in a long gulp of air and then she looked to Trevor. He was slowly shaking his head. 

“I…,” she began.

“Stop it,” he said as he sat forward and placed his face in his hands. She stood from the couch because she didn’t want to be in the same space as him. She wanted him gone so she could speak to her partner in private. 

“Trevor I’m sorry…what you heard...,” she said, and he looked up at her from his hands. 

“What I heard sounded an awful lot like everything you just spent the past half hour denying,” his tone was firm, and she could tell he was angry.

“It’s complicated…” 

“Answer something for me Olivia,” he said as he rose to his feet and she nodded silently. “Are you in love with him?” 

“Trevor...I’m…”

“Just answer me.”

“No, I’m not… No,” she said, and she could feel the burn at her throat.

“That’s a shame, because it sure sounds like he’s in love with you,” he said as he shook his head and started towards her doorway. 

“He’s not, that’s not…” she defended, as she followed him toward her doorway. 

“You know what else is a shame?” he asked as he turned to face her once more, with his hand on her doorknob. 

“What?” she sighed as she examined his broken face. 

“If you’d have let me, I could’ve been in love with you too,” he said as he leaned in and placed a goodbye kiss on her forehead, before he slipped out her door and out of her life for good. 

~

She sat with her elbows against her knees, as she cradled her cell phone in her hand. Trevor’s words stung, but her mind was only concentrated on Elliot. She knew she needed to call him back, or he’d get worried, but she had no idea where to start when he picked up her call. _If you need me, I need you too._ The way he rushed out the words before he clicked off was echoing in her ears. She felt helpless, almost nine years of speaking to him, and she didn’t have the first clue how to actually _talk_ to him. 

She knew she owed him an apology- she owed him a better confession. _I would’ve done the same thing_ , but she wasn’t certain she had the strength to make it. She’d grown so accustomed to their secret language of avoidance and hidden meaning that facing this head on was making her chest grow tight with nerves. She didn’t know if she had the answers he was looking for. She had no idea where to go from here. They’d made a mess. 

She wanted to throw her phone across the room and bury herself under her blankets. She contemplated driving to his apartment and explaining in the only way she knew how, but she knew that would only leave them with more aftermath. She wanted him to knock on her door, come inside, and hold her while she slept. Maybe between the hours of evening and new day, their mingled breathing and tired bodies could admit what their minds weren’t willing to relinquish. 

She didn’t know anymore. Maybe her teeth in his shoulder would be better. 

Before she could agonize over it more, she felt her cell phone vibrate between her clasped palms. _No more running._ He had her cornered, and clearly, he intended to play with words. It wasn’t either of their strong suits, but she feared he may be better than her. She took a deep breath in as she flipped the phone open but remained silent. 

“Olivia?” his voice said in a low tone. She could make out the sound of traffic in the background. He said her name like it was safe in his mouth, and she felt her body respond. She cursed herself for how much he affected her. 

“Yeah,” she sighed as she rested her eyes shut for a moment. He was miles away, but she somehow felt exposed. 

“You answered,” he said, and his words were so quiet she almost felt they were spoken more for himself than for her. 

“Is everything okay?” she asked, as if he was calling to inform her about a case. _There was no case._ She didn’t know how to talk to him without that barrier. All this time, and she couldn’t even speak her mind to the person she considered herself closest to. 

“Ha! Yeah, everything is great, Liv,” he said in a soft yet bitter laugh, and she could picture clear as day how his face would look as he spoke the words. Nothing was okay about how she’d left. Nothing was okay about the way he looked at her in the locker room after he’d hit Blaine. Nothing was okay about pretending she wanted to be at Computer Crimes. 

“So you aren’t missing me, then?” she asked, as she thought about how long it would take Cragen to assign him a new permanent partner. It felt so foreign to think about him saying, _I’m Detective Stabler, and this is my partner, Detective,_ and then hear another person’s name drop from his lips. He was silent as he considered her question. She feared she’d gone too far. He could push their boundaries, but the minute she did it, he always panicked. 

“Did you hear my voicemail?” 

“Yeah, so did Trevor Langan,” she said and then regretted admitting that he’d been with her. Deflection had landed her in a bigger problem. 

“I figured; I saw him leave your apartment,” he groaned, and she could hear his hands bristle against his steering wheel. 

“You were at my apartment?” 

“Parked out front. I got worried when you weren’t answering, and I was still in Manhattan, leaving the house,” he explained, and then silence followed. His explanation didn’t add up. He would have had to be sitting out front when he called for the timing to make sense. She wondered how long he had sat there and looked at her building, while she was inside with Trevor. 

“El, so you know, Trevor was at my door when I got home. I didn’t ask him here, and it’s over.”

“You ended it with him?” he asked, and then she could hear him clear his throat. 

“Your voicemail did all the heavy lifting for me,” she sighed, as she felt her fingers shake with energy. More silence ensued, and she could hear the hum of his stereo through the phone line. 

“I could turn the car around,” he offered, and her belly was hit with another pang. She realized he must have left when he saw Trevor come down. 

“That’s probably not the best idea…” she said as her mind once again neglected her body. 

“I miss you,” he said, proving her theory that he was better with the words than she was. 

“We’ll just hurt each other,” she said as the reality of the words hit her. _They’d just hurt each other._ There was no good ending; there never had been. She could tell him to turn the car around, and they could give in, but she knew he’d hate her come morning, because his divorce papers wouldn’t be signed, and she wouldn’t be his partner ever again. Once they crossed the bridge, she knew it would burn behind them, and then they’d have no way of returning to what they’d meant to each other for nearly nine years. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Livia,” he said, the ‘O’ sounding like it had dropped from her name, as his accent crowded his words. He was speaking low and close together, the intensity of his tone pulling and pooling at all her nerves. 

“I know that,” she said as she let her forehead rest in her palm. She felt exhausted. 

“You really…” he began, and she knew what he was struggling to say was, _hurt me._ She knew she needed to apologize. 

“I should have told you before...I went right after the hospital-to Cragen. I thought it would hurt less if I did it before you did.” 

“I know...I know that’s why, but you gotta know I was never going to do it.” 

“Then why did you say that?” she asked as a slight tremor ran down her legs as she waited for his answer. 

“It all hit me; how much I’d messed up. It was about me, Liv. I knew I had to get myself in check,” he said, and she didn’t know which direction to take his words. She didn’t know how into it she wanted to get, the last thing she had the strength for was reliving that case. 

“But you were mad that I was out of check too!” she said as his words replayed in her mind. _I know you would have taken the shot, Olivia._

“I wasn’t mad! I realized you weren’t lying when you said you would've done the same thing, and I knew we had a huge problem!” his voice was escalating. The last thing she wanted to do was provoke him while he was driving, but he wasn’t giving her much of a choice. “If one of us could have kept a straight head we wouldn’t be in this mess!” 

“And you expected that to be me?! Don’t you see how unfair that is,” she shouted back and immediately regretted her tone. They were screaming at each other over the phone like a pair of teenagers. 

“I didn’t know until you were holding that gun at my face, I didn’t know…”

“Didn’t know what?” she said as she felt the fear rising in her throat. 

“I didn’t know how hard it would be,” he whispered, his shouts crashing down to barely audible omissions. 

“Elliot, you thought it would be easy for me to cause your death? How could you think that?”

“People lose partners sometimes, in the field…you go in knowing it’s a chance; everyday there is a chance that could happen.” 

“I know. I’ve always known that! I’ve carried all this pressure to protect you all these years, because so many people depend on you. Your wife and your kids, they need you, and it’s my job to make sure they never have to go without you... and you’re right, I didn’t know...I didn’t know until I had the gun pointed at you…that I need you too,” she said as she tried with everything in her to keep a lid on the full truths that were threatening to escape. She could hear him breathing as he absorbed her words, and the silence was dragging on. She felt ridiculous that she’d admitted that to him. 

She’d been alone her whole life; she’d never needed a damn soul. She learned how to make a sandwich for herself before she could ride a bike, she knew how to mix a cocktail by age ten, and she could forge a signature better than any other kid in school. She learned from a young age that wanting from anyone ended in heartache, so she made it her mission not to be dependent on anyone, not to _need_ anyone. 

~

_8 Years Ago_

_They were sitting on an all-night stake out. It was February, and the windows were frosted. She’d been working with Elliot Stabler for almost six months. She blew heat into her hands as he adjusted the controls for the tenth time._

_“Munch and the new guy should be thanking their lucky stars they aren’t out here right now,” he grumbled as he picked up his cold coffee and held it in his gloved hands. Snow began falling mid-stakeout, and the visibility out of their windows was hindering most chances of glimpsing their suspect._

_“Tell me about it,” she grumbled as she looked over at her partner. She let her eyes take in his jawline and neck, which disappeared into a zip-up sweatshirt. He had a black beanie over his ears, and it was the first time she had seen him look so casual. The air in the car was tight, and her senses were overwhelmed by the smell of his aftershave and the laundry soap that his wife washed his clothes with._

_“About four more hours till sunrise, four hours for him to show,” he said absently, and she groaned, her legs already stiff in the passenger seat._

_“Tell me something interesting,” he said as he popped his knuckles to relieve some boredom tension._

_“What do you want to know?” she said as she thought about the things they’d covered already. He’d told her a lot about his family and his life, but she kept most things about herself private._

_“Got any nicknames?” he asked as he turned to her with a smirk on his face. She hadn’t been working with him long, but she couldn’t deny the way Elliot Stabler brought frequent smiles to her face. He was serious most of the time, but every so often he’d crack a joke or ask a question that would have her sides feeling weak. She found herself wanting to tell him things._

_“What kind of nicknames?” she said with the rise of an eyebrow. He chuckled as he said,_

_“I don’t know, when you were a kid, I guess? We call my kids all kinds of ridiculous things.”_

_“My mom called me Libbie,” she said as the nickname stung her lips. He shifted his shoulders in her direction as he studied her reddened nose for a moment. She was freezing._

_“How did that come about?”_

_“I think it was supposed to be Livvie; I would have liked that, but the v’s sounded more like b’s when she drank,” she said as she moved her eyes from him to the frosted window. She didn’t know why she’d killed the mood with the sad childhood tidbit._

_“She drank a lot?” he asked in a soft tone that made her feel comfortable admitting the truth._

_“She did- she does...I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to throw that out there. Your turn to tell me something interesting.”_

_He rested his head against the seat as he kept his eyes on her._

_“Why’d she drink?”_

_“Why does anyone do anything…?”_

_“You don’t talk about yourself much, Benson, hard to get to know you.”_

_“You know what you need to know about me.”_

_“I’d like to know more,” he said as he cleared his throat._

_“You never asked me why I picked this unit,” she said as she shifted so she was facing him. The only thing between their bodies was the center console._

_“Well, you haven’t asked me either,” he retorted._

_“Why did you pick Special Victims?” she asked as she realized she wanted his answer. When she first joined the unit, she was suspicious of most men who would choose to surround themselves with the utter depravity of rape and sexual assault. She feared any man who would choose to be in that line of work was probably as sick as the perverts. He maintained eye contact with her in the dark car as he began to speak. She’d learned that Elliot Stabler wasn’t a man of many words, but in the early hours of the morning, in a parked car somewhere in the Bronx, he spoke to her like he had all the time in the world._

_“I had my first daughter when I was seventeen. I guess it changed the way I saw the world. The whole pregnancy I sulked that I wouldn’t be going off to state school to party my ass off and sleep with sorority girls. Before Maureen those were my plans,” he said as he laughed and shook his head at his own young naivety. “I enlisted in the marines instead, like my father. It gave me a way to put myself through school for free after deployment, so I could also support a family. I saw some things overseas- how women were treated, both female soldiers and native women. I saw a lot of shit excused in the military. I was too stupid and afraid to say much back then. I just accepted that stuff like that happened, in a man's world. Then I came back, and my baby was growing up. I realized she was going to be this whole person, with this whole future ahead of her. It horrified me that she would be growing up in the same world that excused so much harm. Then it really terrified me that it was my job to protect her. I was her father, and yet I knew that there was so much out there that was out of my control. By the time she was four or five, and Kathleen was a baby, I started to notice the attention our family would get. You hear stories on the news about kids being abducted right under their parents’ noses, and suddenly I couldn’t sleep anymore. I was twenty-two, my friends were still sleeping with sorority girls, and I had two little girls who depended on me for everything,” he furrowed his brow as he let his words settle in the sedan. He gave a small smile which let her know he was self-conscious that maybe he’d said too much. She gave a soft nod, and he continued, “And other than that, I think that sex should be one of the best parts of life, not the worst. I don’t want women to be scared. I want kids to be kids. I hate the shit we deal with. I hate the perps, but if it helps at least one vic, I feel like I’m making more of a difference than I would in any other unit.”_

_“Thanks for telling me all that…” she said as she took in his face. His eyes were calm, and his breathing was steady. He was content to sit there and tell her all he had on his mind._

_“Anytime, Benson,” he shrugged as he smiled at her again._

_“My mom was raped,” she said as she rested her head against the passenger seat. He held her gaze as he urged her to go on. “She was in grad school at the time, happened the same way we hear it does every day, walking alone in the dark and snuck up on.”_

_“How old were you?”_

_“I wasn’t...she only has me because of the rape. I don’t know my father; they never caught him,” she said, as she felt the tears rise in her eyes. She felt like such a fool. She’d never told anyone in the way she’d told him. Cragen knew because she had to put it on her hiring paperwork, and she’d told the department psych evaluator so she could get the job, but she’d never told anyone by choice. Even though she’d known the facts of her conception her entire adult life, speaking the truth out loud burned her unexpectedly._

_“She tried to be a good mom, but she needed the booze to cope, and I don’t blame her. I could never imagine what she went through raising me.”_

_“I’m sure you were a great kid,” he said, and she could feel a few tears threatening to slip. She didn’t blink them away; she let them well against her eyes. She was surprised that she didn’t feel the need to hide._

_“I tried to be. I picked this unit because all these years later, and I’m still trying to understand my mother, find some justice for her, for all the women like her,” she said, knowing the truth would be safe with him. He didn’t offer her a tissue or tell her not to cry. He just watched as she finally let a weight off her chest that she didn’t realize she’d been carrying for so long. Once the tears subsided slightly, she added,_

_“And besides that, I also think sex should always be about pleasure, not control.”_

_“Glad we agree on that,” he grinned, and she looked away from him for a moment. They talked about sex in all of its vile forms all day long but talking about it in its intended form made her heartbeat pound a little faster._

_“It’s hard sometimes with this job.”_

_“What’s hard?” he asked, and even though she’d stopped looking at him, she could still sense he was looking at her._

_“For it to feel like pleasure…” she revealed, and she wasn’t sure why she’d told him that. Discussing her sex life with colleagues didn’t seem professional, but she also knew that if anyone would understand, it would be him. She’d heard that in Special Victims partners developed a strange intimacy, and she realized this was how- in parked cars where sad truths could be admitted, truths that couldn’t be shared with a lover or a spouse. He inhaled, and he seemed to be considering his words._

_“I know… it takes its toll. Sometimes it’s hard to not see the job everywhere,”_

_“I see the job whenever I look in the mirror,” she admitted as she chanced a glance back at him. His face was overcome with sadness at her truth._

_“You deserve pleasure, Olivia,” he said, and her body stirred at his words. She knew in that moment that he could see exactly how she’d denied herself her entire life, denied herself of feeling worthy of anything good, denied herself of happiness. The sadness he felt for her almost made her feel sad for herself._

_“Thanks…” she laughed as she exhaled through her nose. He shook his head at his own statement, knowing that it was toeing an invisible line. He looked to the dash to make sure their suspect hadn’t shown. After some beats of silence he spoke again._

_“Thank you for telling me that,” he said, and she knew they had returned to the topic of her mother._

_“I don’t talk about it often.”_

_“Did you ever try to find him?”_

_“Yeah, been over the report a thousand times,” she said, and she could sense there was something he was holding back._

_“Did you expect that?” she asked because the curiosity got the better of her._

_“I…” he began, and then he laughed lightly, “I couldn’t figure out for a bit what made you different; I knew it was something, but I wasn’t sure what.”_

_“Different?”_

_“Better- you’ve got a lot of drive, Benson,” he said with a smile._

_“Thanks.”_

_“I like when you tell me things about you; you’re pretty fascinating.”_

_“Fascinating, huh?” she said, her laugh returning as the tears retreated from where they had rested against her eyelids, refusing to fall._

_“Yeah, tell me what you eat for breakfast.”_

_“A bagel and orange juice,” she laughed. Once her tears dried all the way, he spoke again and asked, “Can I call you Livvie?” His smile told her that he was joking. She was thankful for the lightness._

_“Absolutely not,” she said as she slapped his arm playfully._

_~_

“I want to see you,” he said, and she could hear the emotion in his voice. 

“Elliot, I want that too but...it’s…” 

“It’s what? Too complicated,” he said, and she could hear his car stop at a light. She almost prayed he’d make a U-turn. When she didn’t respond he continued, “Let’s try, let’s get dinner or something.” 

“I’m not sure I know how to talk to you now that you aren’t my partner.” 

“I’ll always be your partner, Liv. I’m still me; nothing has really changed.” 

“What are we going to talk about, there won’t be a case..or...” What she was really trying to say was there wouldn’t be enough boundaries to remind them why they can’t have each other. The job had always been the same thing simultaneously keeping them together and keeping them apart. 

“We’ll talk about what normal people talk about. It will be fun.” 

“Right,” she said as she clung to his words. _It will be fun_ , nothing about needing him was _fun_. 

“After work on Friday, I’ll come over, alright?” he said, and he spoke to her like he could lose her at any second. 

“Alright,” she confirmed, as she hung up the call. 


	18. Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot's P.O.V.

_Friday Midday / 2 Days Later_

Working a case solo made him realize how much he had taken for granted. He kept thinking about angles of the case he wanted to discuss. He kept turning to find his passenger seat empty. He was hitting every red light from the school to the stationhouse. He realized the car smelled different, the vents weren’t wafting her shampoo or the perfume she dabbed on her pulse points. It felt empty. When he sat at his desk and worked on his reports, he’d look up and across at her desk. He realized he’d lost his focal point. Paperwork seemed harder to do. He needed the background noise of her fingertips pounding relentlessly on her keyboard to pull him into his own focus. 

He’d gone to Computer Crimes the day before, the day after their phone call. He tried not to let his eyes linger as she helped them with their case. He couldn’t help but notice the joy that lifted in her eyes, when she got a window into their world again. She looked like she always did, her hair and makeup and her necklace. He couldn’t see her scar. It was healing nicely. He wanted her to rise to her feet so he could see if she had her holster on her hip. He wanted her to meet him at eye level and remind him that she was still the woman he’d known for so long. He hadn’t spoken to her since the phone call, and he hoped they were still on for whatever he had suggested for Friday. 

_“See ya.”_

_“Okay.”_

She had nodded as she spoke the single syllable. He had to force himself to pull away from her energy, because he couldn’t have anyone catch him lingering too long. Fin had already grilled him on their car ride to New Jersey the day before. 

He sat at the light and thought about how he was supposed to see her tonight. He’d told her he wanted to see her. _He did_. But he was nervous. Maybe she was right, _what would they talk about without the job?_

He wanted to show up dressed decent, make reservations, and take her somewhere nice. _Was that what his intention was? To take her on some kind of date?_ He had no idea what she was expecting of him, all she’d said was _alright,_ like it was the furthest thing from _alright._ He said he’d come over, but they hadn’t set a time. He couldn’t text her casually and ask, it was all too touchy. He didn’t even know if she actually wanted to see him. 

_I realized I need you too._

She’d told him a lot with those words, but he didn’t know what to make of them. _What did she need from him?_ Need and Olivia didn’t correlate in his brain. She’d never needed anyone as long as he’d known her. He’d watched her turn down so many men who wanted to give her everything. She didn’t even take more than a day off work when her mother died. 

_Should he bring her flowers? What would that say? Here Liv, sorry all I’m capable of is ruining our partnership and fingering you against your doorway? Fuck._

She’d probably laugh in his face if he brought her flowers. He didn’t even know what kind of flowers she liked. He laughed out loud in the empty car. Olivia wasn’t Kathy, the last thing she’d want is him trying to romance her. The entire thought felt ridiculous. 

_Olivia_. She was so whole. She didn’t need anything from anyone. She dated, but she didn’t _date._ She never had expectations of the men. She took what she wanted from them and left the rest. He’d been watching her do it for years. He didn’t understand at first because he’d go home with flowers and pitiful apologies. He’d do the dishes and mow the lawn, so his wife knew he cared. Kathy always wanted more from him. There was always another project, another test for him to pass in order to prove that he loved his wife. Olivia did everything for herself. 

He knew she would laugh at flowers. No conventions would help him out of this mess. Olivia probably wanted him to throw her down on her kitchen counter and make her body tremble. That’s what he wanted to do, but he was so ruled by conventions that the carnal side of him had to hide. His wife would never let him do something like that; they were only intimate in bed when the kids had long been asleep, the lights were off, and the comforter was covering their bodies. 

He knew Olivia knew what she wanted. There wouldn’t be any reassurances needed. No, _do you think I’m pretty still? Or, was I good? Or, can you be gentle?_ She knew what she was doing. She wasn’t gentle, and she knew she was good. He was sure of this because he saw the looks she gave the pathetic men that fell at her feet asking to take her on a _real_ date. 

_So was that his plan?_ Show up at her apartment, barge through her door and bend her over every surface in her apartment? He slammed the brake at another light as he gripped the steering wheel. He knew that’s how it would be. He’d known that from the minute he shook her hand for the first time. If ever given the chance, _he’d met his match._ There was no side of himself he’d have to hold back with her. 

_The papers will be signed first._ And then what? They could burn each other down with their insatiable appetites? They could do whatever they damned pleased because there would be no wife and no partnership anymore. They’d both have nothing. How many times between her legs would it take him to fall at her feet and beg for a _real_ date? Would she show him the door? Stomp on his flowers and tell him that she doesn’t want anything more, _that they were better as partners._

Did he want more? He hadn’t even split from the first wife yet, how could he begin to think about a second? Then he laughed out loud again, Olivia would kill him before she’d let him marry her. _Marry her._ What would that look like? He thought about his life, his marriage with Kathy, and he couldn’t for the life of him picture Olivia in that type of world. She’d die of boredom after one week. 

Olivia was desire, she was strength, she was independence, she would never be somebody’s wife. _So no flowers, no dinner reservations._ She needed him to make it clear that he intended to finish what he’d started in her doorway, _on multiple occasions,_ and she didn’t really give a damn about his marriage certificate. 

Then his eyes landed on the glove box. He popped it open to find her most recent romance novel. She’d told him a long time ago that she read them because reading anything dark wasn’t fun with their work. She couldn’t read classics because her mother had been a literature professor, and anything else was too involved to read on car trips when he would disturb her peace with pestering questions. He looked at the book. It sat nestled in one of her scarves. The cover had an airbrushed man holding flowers. _Fuck._

Maybe he didn’t know the first thing about what Olivia Benson actually needed from him. 

~

_Friday Night /7:00 pm_

He stood at her doorway and knocked three times. She opened the door. She was wearing her work clothes still; so was he. 

“Hey,” she said as she leaned against the door. 

“It’s Friday…”

“It is…” she said as she pulled her weight off the door and let it fall all the way open. “Come in,” she said, and he watched as her eyes fell to his lips. 

“No, grab your coat, I made us reservations at that sushi bar you’ve talked about.” 

“You hate raw fish,” she said as she studied him with a peculiar look on her face. 

“They have teriyaki chicken,” he shrugged, and she laughed as she grabbed her coat. Her laugh hit his chest; he’d missed hearing it. 

~

He watched as she ate with her chopsticks. She’d barely spoken to him on the drive to the restaurant. They hadn’t had much of a chance to talk between ordering drinks and then food. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but he didn’t know where to start. _Work._

“How’s Computer Crimes?” 

“It’s better than I expected. I’ve never felt so rested,” she said as she looked at him. 

“You like who you’re working with?”

“They’re not you,” she said in that breathy tone that had him grasping for his water glass. 

“Fin’s driving me crazy.”

“I’m sure the feeling is mutual.” 

“Yeah,” he sighed. There was maybe twelve inches of table between them, but he’d never felt farther from her. 

“We can talk about Teddy if you need,” she offered. She must have been able to see the weight of the case on his shoulders; Teddy was the name of his current victim turned perpetrator.

“We’re not even working together, and you manage to bring it up,” he said as he shook his head at her, but a smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“I just know the kids get to you,” she sighed, and he wanted to hug her, bury his face in her neck and thank her for being who she was. 

“It’s the worst thing, when they can’t beat the cycle,” he said as he pushed his food around with his fork. 

“I know, El,” she said, and he knew they were both thinking about their childhoods. _Was he repeating the cycle of being an angry and absent father?_

“You miss it? You seem like you miss it,” he said as he let his foot find hers underneath the table. 

“I do. I want to help. I’ve got all this free time now, and I feel like I’m wasting it,” 

“It’s alright to spend time on yourself,” he said as she let her foot tangle with his. 

“I did- I went shopping, watched my favorite movies, I’ve finished three books, I organized my cd collection in alphabetical order, I painted my bathroom…” she trailed off into small laughs. 

“What color?”

“Red, it looks horrible,” she said as she ate a piece of sushi. 

“What’d you go shopping for?” 

“Bought some new shirts, needed more casual stuff since I haven’t been in court, spent an obscene amount of money on a pair of heels I’ll probably never wear, bought some new candles, and some bath salts…” 

“Make sure you blow your candles out,” he said out of habit. His daughters always lit candles in their bedrooms, and he worried one day it would burn the house down. She lived alone, and he didn’t want her to forget. If he could be with her all the time, he’d make sure to blow her candles out. 

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to keep that in mind,” she said with an eye roll.

“You take a lot of baths?” 

“Elliot, what is this?” she laughed as she shook her head. 

“I’m just making conversation, you know, what normal people talk about.” 

“I like baths. I got rose petal bath salts on sale. I was excited,” she shrugged, and he could see that she was trying not to smile at the absurdity of this conversation. 

“You like roses?” 

“I like the color red,” she said as she reached for her drink and took a long sip while she kept her eyes on him. 

“You think you’ll come back?” he asked in almost a whisper, and he knew he was disturbing the flow they had begun to establish. 

“Don’t tempt me,” she said, and he knew that meant she was itching to leave Computer Crimes. 

“I want you to come back.” 

“If I come back, we can’t do this,” she said as she set her glass down on the circle table, and then she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, pulling her foot from him. He hooked his foot around her ankle and tugged it back towards him, causing her to come forward in her chair. 

“What is this?” he asked because he needed her to tell him, he needed to know what she wanted, what she _needed_.

“I don’t know, Elliot, I was following your lead.” 

“I like doing this.”

“Me too,” she admitted, but he felt from her tone of voice that they could be in an interrogation room, rather than an upscale sushi bar that was bound to strain his wallet. 

“You could wear those heels sometime.”

“I could,” she agreed through tight lips, and he began to feel lightheaded. 

“I miss work,” she added. 

“I know you do. I shoulda been the one to leave. That’s always how I envisioned it happening.” 

“So you always thought this would happen?” she asked as she leaned across the table, her ankle still caught in his. 

“Didn’t you?”

“No!” she said as her eyes flashed at him. “You were married, Elliot!” 

“Famous last words,” he sighed through a scratchy throat. She shook her head at him and yanked her foot back to her territory. 

“Do you want me to come back to work, or do you want me to wear the heels?” she asked, her voice low and firm. _Do you want me as your partner, or do you want me as more?_

“Both,” he said with a sad smile. He knew what she was going to say next. 

“You can’t have both.” 

~

“What are your Saturday plans?” he asked as he walked behind her on the stairs that lead to her doorway. 

“Might get lunch with my friend from college.”

“You have friends?” he laughed from behind her. She turned around and glared at him.

“A few,” she shrugged. “And who are you to judge? I’ve never heard you mention any friends.” 

“I’m not everyone’s cup of tea,” he joked as they made it to her doorway. 

“Elliot, why are you following me up?” he couldn’t tell if she was frustrated, tired, or intrigued. 

“I just wanted to make sure you got inside,” _Blink your lights when you get inside._ He’d been wanting to follow her up for so many years. 

“Right,” she said as she turned to face him. He stepped forward, reaching for her hands. He let his thumbs roll over her knuckles. 

“I shouldn’t have been so angry,” he said as he pulled her closer to him. Her eyes fell to their feet; his eyes fell to her necklace and breasts. 

“I should have told you,” she responded. 

“Well, we’re even then,” he smiled as he lifted her chin with his fingertips and placed a kiss on her mouth. He felt her inhale against his lips, and he took the chance to deepen the kiss. He dropped her hands and she moved them around his neck. He circled her lower back and pulled her against him. He broke the kiss, letting his hands find her neck and her face. He ran his fingers through her hair and forced her to look up at him. 

“Invite me in.”

“No,” she said as she let her thumbs press into and drag up on the column at the back of his neck. The pads of her thumbs were working through all the tension he carried there. The pressure was sending shock waves down his body. She knew how to touch him in such unexpected places.

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to let go of my partner yet,” she said, and it gave him hope that she could come back to Special Victims. _He wanted her back._

“No one has to know. Now that we know, I don’t think something like Gitano would happen again,” he said as he let his hand slip under her shirt and up the plane of her back. Her skin was warm against the palm of his hand. _Now that we know._ If he was being honest with himself, he’d known it long before Gitano played on their weaknesses, but Gitano had made him face it in a way he wasn’t prepared for. 

“You made such a big deal about the papers, Elliot.”

“I know,” he said, and he didn’t know where his resolve went. Perhaps it began to evaporate when she’d gotten on her knees and showed him everything he’d been missing. He leaned in and kissed her again as his fingers clawed at her back. 

“I won’t let you regret me,” she said as she pulled out of his embrace. 

“Liv…” he began because he didn’t want her to think that’s how he’d feel about her for a minute, but she cut him off. 

“I couldn’t take it,” she said in a small voice as she unlocked her door, slipped inside, and left him standing there. He watched the door shut as her words lingered with him. His body ached for her, his heart ached for her, his mind ached. He clenched his fists as he descended the stairs. _He’d never regret her._


	19. Deplorable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olivia's P.O.V.

_One Month Later_

The plane had been turbulent for the last half hour. She was still wearing the outfit she’d picked to be ‘Persephone James.’ Dana had met her at lockup, the feds jumped her ‘bail,’ and she was given a one-way ticket to some town outside of Portland, Oregon. Her case agent was supposed to pick her up at the airport. She hoped that whoever it was planned on bringing her a change of clothes and a toothbrush. She felt exhausted and disgusting. She didn’t have time to pack anything. Dana promised her that she’d be supplied with everything she would need once she got to Oregon, and the feds would better go over her cover before she infiltrated Andy Dell’s group. She sipped on her Pepsi and tried to comprehend how she’d landed herself in an eco-terrorist undercover operative. It had all happened so fast. Haley was going to blow up that building with her and Dana inside, and next thing she knew she was being arrested. Then she’d agreed to give up the job she’d just gotten back to and boarded a plane to be far away from all the things her and Elliot had been letting mount for the last month and a half. Any day it was bound to implode, their little side stepping and avoiding growing thin, and she’d ran before it could all blow up again.

_“What are you doing here?”_

_“I work here.”_

She’d left a lot unfinished back in New York. She rested her head against the plane’s window and chewed on the insides of her cheeks. She wondered how many hours would pass until he _knew,_ until Cragen called him into his office and told him that she was gone for an undetermined amount of time. _Would he be surprised?_ Or had he come to expect her pattern by now? He wouldn’t really have the right to be mad because she’d stick to the story that she didn’t have a choice in the matter- _she’d infiltrated successfully. She had to help if she could._

But she wasn’t helping him; she’d once again left him in the lurches. She had no idea what to expect once she landed in Oregon, but part of her hoped that the undercover operation would demand a good chunk of time from her. Maybe being gone would give him time to figure out why he couldn’t sign his papers. _Did she want him to sign his papers?_ She wanted him to not have the weight of his guilt on his chest when he touched her, and she wanted him to touch her, but she didn’t want him to walk away from who he was, to be with her. _She couldn’t take that_. 

Elliot and _available_ did not correlate in her brain. For as long as she’d known him, he’d proven to her that some _fathers_ and _husbands_ took their roles seriously. She didn’t know if she could handle seeing him stripped of the identity that she too had become attached to. Who was he without the house in Queens and the gold band? _He was hers._

The thought terrified her. She had nothing to offer him. He’d sat across from her at some restaurant he couldn’t afford, and he asked her about her bath salts and roses. She felt sixteen again as she smiled at him from across the table, and that was when she knew that she needed to shove the job between them again. She had nothing to give him, and he had nothing to give her, but she knew they would both take, reach out and burn their hands. He’d tried, when he kissed her by her doorway, and she saved him because she knew he was lost. He’d been insistent on the papers being signed for months, and she wasn’t going to let him give in because she’d been weak and told him that she _needed_ him. _What had she been thinking?_

She wasn’t sure how telling him _that_ translated into him doing what he’d done, but she knew he’d regret her if she reciprocated. _What was she supposed to do? Start calling him ‘honey’ and touch him nicely? What did he expect from her?_

Elliot Stabler was such a gentleman, all good intentions and morality. That Elliot Stabler scared her to death and would send her running every time. She wanted her partner-her angry rage filled, god-fearing to the point of destruction, _partner._

She didn’t want whatever it was he pretended to be for Kathy. She wanted him to leave bruises where his fingers would grip her thighs. She wanted his mouth hot against hers, not unsure and begging her to make the call. 

_Invite me in?_

Maybe Elliot Stabler wasn’t as god-fearing as she gave him credit for. For all the times he’d pulled back, she could tell he would have gone through that night if she’d let him. _So who was stopping them? Him or her?_ She groaned as she stretched out her legs in the confines of her 22B seat and realized the only one running was _her._

She’d stopped him to protect him, to protect his view of himself. She didn’t want to be the reason he sent his fists flying across lockers. She did it because as much as it hurt to ignore her needs, she didn’t want him to lose himself. He needed her to be his partner, not his _mistress._ He’d told her that in so many words outside the hospital. 

_“I couldn’t take it.”_

As the recycled air from the plane pushed from the vent and hit her arms, she realized she wasn’t sure if she had a single clue as to what Elliot Stabler actually wanted from her. 

~

“They sent a New Yorker all the way to the west coast?” her case agent said as he pulled the black fed car out of the arrivals terminal. The sign that read ‘Persephone James’ rested against her feet. 

“Like I’m sure Dana told you, nothing about this was planned,” she laughed as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. She knew she wasn’t looking her best, and it almost bothered her because her case agent was easy on the eyes. _Dean Porter._ His name had a nice ring to it. 

“You ever been to the west coast before?” he asked as he glanced at her with a smirk fitted on his face. She hadn’t known this man for more than ten minutes, and he was already smug about something. She wasn’t sure if she liked him or found him irritating. 

“California for a spring break trip when I was in college,” she shrugged, and she left out the times she’d been to Berkley with her mother. Serena did some guest lectures, and when Olivia was twelve or so she’d gone with her mother. She remembered helping her mother throw up in her Alcatraz island gift shop bag on the BART. Serena insisted that the motion just got the best of her. 

“So you passed for a hippie?” he asked as he got on the freeway. He was dropping her off at the hotel she was staying in until they briefed her on her entire cover. 

“What are you suggesting?”

“You look more New York than tree-hugging vegan” 

“Ha! Well, I did my best.” 

“Don’t worry we’ll get it covered for the infiltration. Let your hair be natural. We’ll find you some underground music scene t-shirts and some natural deodorant. You’ll fit right in, in no time,” he snickered as he flashed her a row of straight white teeth. _He was attractive._

“What makes you think this isn’t my natural hair?” 

“Women like you always do something to their hair.”

“Women like me,” she challenged with a raised eyebrow. 

“City women, business women, you know,” he said with a cock to his head. He was arrogant, the kind of arrogance she always ended up in bed with. 

“Well you just have me all figured out, don’t you,” she laughed. It felt good to flirt with someone after a month and a half of strict professionalism. She’d been in this limbo with Elliot for so long that she’d forgotten that other men still found her intriguing. 

“So what’s your actual job?”

“Detective at Special Victims.”

“Sex crimes?”

“You got it,” she said with a swallow. If there was any way to kill flirtation, it was discussion of her job. 

“So what made you want to bust a group of eco-terrorists?”

“Dana is a friend, and I want to help wherever I can.” 

“Kinda crazy to leave your life on no notice like that.”

“I guess,” she said as she rubbed her hands together. She wasn’t sure what he was getting at. 

“You got anybody who’s going to miss you?” he said, and his question piqued her defenses. 

“What are you asking?”

“I’d never let my girlfriend or wife do an undercover stunt that could have her gone for months.” _Months,_ she could be gone for months. She wasn’t sure if the information eased her nerves or ignited them. 

“You married, Porter?”

“Hypothetically speaking,” he clarified with regard to his previous statement. He said it with the click of his tongue and a flash of something in his almond eyes. 

“You?” he added. 

“Huh? No, not married.” 

“But someone is going to miss you?” he pushed, like it was pertinent information. 

“No,” she sighed. 

~

_4 Weeks Later_

“You always sleep with colleagues?” Dean Porter asked as he ran his fingers through her hair. She was lying in the hotel room bed, and the afternoon sun was coming in. She’d come to report on what she’d learned from living with the group and somehow ended up with her back to the mattress. The hotel room where he was staying while working the case was one of the spots they met. He’d basically been living in the room for the past month. She learned he was originally from Baltimore. What could she say? Oregon was lonely, and the hippies didn’t do it for her. 

She was no stranger to casual sex, but as Dean moved above her, she couldn’t help but feel guilty. She hadn’t slept with anyone since Trevor, so she rationalized that she deserved it. 

“Just case agents,” she said as she sat up and began collecting her clothes off the floor. She couldn’t be gone from the commune much longer; the group would start asking questions. 

“You missing the city yet?” he asked, as he watched her get dressed. 

“I miss Special Victims” she said, as her eyes fell to the box of condoms on the nightstand. She wondered if they’d continue to make their way through the box every time she came to give him an update on the group. 

“You work with a partner?” Dean asked as he sat crossed legged with a sheet over his body. His hair was messed up, and he had a giddy grin on his face. She liked that she could still put a grin like that on a man’s face. 

“I do,” she said through pursed lips, as she ruffled a hand through her wavy hair. She placed her phone in her back pocket and indicated that she should go. 

“Does it change each case? I’m always working with new people, depending on where I’m being consulted.” 

“No, same partner,” she said as she tried to keep it vague, but clearly he noticed the change in her demeanor. 

“They know you’re here?” She wasn’t sure what his question was getting at, _in Oregon or in his bed? Neither,_ she realized, and it broke her heart. Elliot had no idea where she was, and she couldn’t even call him. She knew if she broke protocol and told him where she was that he’d be on the next plane to Oregon, _she couldn’t have that._

“He doesn’t; I couldn’t call anyone before, and your guys disconnected my number, made me take an oath not to call anyone.” 

“How long you worked with this guy?” 

“Long time.”

“You sleep with him?” Porter asked as his eyes filled with curiosity. He seemed to have a lot of ideas about what kind of woman she was. 

“He’s married,” she said, and Porter laughed. 

“How long is a long time?” he asked as he ignored her previous answer. 

“Eight years,” she said, and Dean’s eyes panned wide. 

“And you’ve never slept with him?” 

“Never,” she said, and Dean’s face was overcome with a look she couldn’t pinpoint. 

“What?” she poked because she wanted to know what he was thinking. 

“Just...the man must be gay because I couldn’t even last a month,” he said as he shook his head and then grinned at her. He was criticizing her for the case at every turn, but he always came around and gave her some kind of compliment, which worked because she ended up naked in his bed. She hadn’t considered that he’d been trying to prevent that from happening in the name of professionalism. The chemistry had been there since she first saw him at the airport. It was _easy,_ nothing there but flirtation and convenience. 

“He’s definitely not gay,” she said as she shook her head. 

“Are you gay?” he laughed, and she rolled her eyes. 

“Really Dean?” she said with an arch to her eyebrow. 

“Alright, alright, get out of here, _Persephone_ ” he said as he waved a hand at her.

“See you next week,” she said, and before the door shut, he called out and said,

“The wavy hair really works for you, city girl!” 


	20. Distant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot's P.O.V.

_2 Weeks Since Olivia Left_

He stepped over the threshold of her door as he let the latch click closed behind him. He’d told her doorman she was out of town, and he’d come to feed her fish. The doorman recognized him to be her partner; she didn’t have a fish. The key to her apartment burned in his palm, a reminder that he was decimating another one of their sacred boundaries. 

She’d given him the key seven years ago with the condition that it was never to be used unless there was an emergency. He’d kept the key in the lock box where he kept his service weapon. A black box tucked behind his stack of folded jeans, high up in his closet, so the kids couldn’t reach. The box had a four-digit serial code- _4015_. Normally he used his children’s birthdays for passcodes, but they were the ones he was trying to keep out of the lock box. He knew they would guess their mother’s birthday and his. He couldn’t use his own badge number because his wife would guess that, and although he knew she had no reason to go in the lockbox he always feared she could find the key. 

So the serial code became another secret he kept along with the piece of metal tucked behind the velvet panel of the lock box. Each night when he came home and stored his gun, his wife would watch him fidget with the code. She never asked what it was, but he realized now it had been another way that Olivia had always been between him and his wife. _Every night_. _4015._

He set the key on the counter as he stood in the silence of her kitchen. He let his eyes sweep her apartment, _stillness._ Everything was left the way she’d had it before she got pulled into whatever it was, she was doing for the feds. He kept the lights off because he didn't need light reminding him that he shouldn’t be inhabiting her space. His eyes fell on the key he’d set down. She would be livid if she knew he’d used it.

~

_“You’re lucky, you’ve got nothing to worry about, definitely got no lawn to mow,” he said as they approached their car._

_“Yeah, I’m a regular monk,” she said as she placed their files in the backseat. He leaned on the driver side door as he watched how her hair fell over the sides of her face and her lips curved in a smile._

_“Monkette,” he corrected as he stared at his partner, the realization hitting him that she went home to no one. She was alone most nights- no one shared the household chores with her, no one had dinner with her, no one held her at night while she slept, and no one would know if she was hurt, if someone hurt her, like their vic. He couldn’t pull his eyes from her as the worry consumed him._

_She caught him staring and gave him a strange look. She didn’t seem to understand the weight of their conversation, the realization it had given him. He didn’t like that there was nobody protecting her. She’d told him about her mother, and he wondered if, because the one person who was supposed to protect you over all others never protected her, that she’d decided nobody ever would. She’d never had a father that worried about her, a father who intimidated first dates or told her she looked beautiful in her prom dress or not to drink from red solo cups at parties she shouldn’t be at, and her mother was too drunk most of the time to be concerned. He wondered if that was why she stayed single when so many people were constantly making passes at her. Perhaps she liked being alone, but he didn’t like it. Now that it was in his mind, he knew it would be another thing on the list of worries that kept him awake at night._

_~_

_The next day his worry deepened when the Captain mentioned that their victim didn’t have anyone listed under her ‘notify in case of emergency’ line. Olivia made some off-handed comment about how she couldn’t imagine living like that, and he found himself staring at her again. She did live like that, and it was the reason he hadn’t slept the night before. He’d thought about calling her, discussing his worries with her but he knew it would be incredibly out of line._

_They’d gone to the morgue after that to find that there was nobody to release their victim’s body to. He’d gone home after the morgue, his mood dark, his mind clouded. He was almost home when he pulled into a gas station and parked his car. He needed to talk to her. He had a proposition for her that he knew could leave him breaking in a new partner, but he needed to put it out there for his own sanity._

_He dialed her number._

_“Did the Vic’s sister call back?” she answered with her tone all business, but he could hear her still setting down her belonging on her counter. She must have just walked through her door._

_“Uh no…” he said as he glanced out his car window at the people milling around the gas station. He knew it was incriminating that he was having this conversation outside of his home, where he should be, but he didn’t want to have to explain to Kathy why he needed these answers from her. He didn’t know himself why he needed the answers, but he wanted the peace of mind._

_“What’s up then?” she asked, and he could hear her putting something in the microwave._

_“Who’s your emergency contact?” he asked, getting straight to the point of his call. He heard her pause over the line._

_“My mother…Elliot, what’s this about?”_

_“This case…our Vic…”_

_“Reminds you of me?” she filled in his blank._

_“You live alone, you don’t know your neighbors. I was just wondering if you had an emergency contact.”_

_“I’m not a civilian, Elliot, I’m perfectly capable of looking out for myself, and I’ve lived alone a long time, so don’t let this keep you from your evening. Put work outside of your mind,” she said, and he thought it was funny that she was trying to reassure him when he’d called concerned about her._

_“You think she’s a good one?”_

_“What?” she asked._

_“Your mother, do you think she’s a good emergency contact?” he clarified as he cleared his throat, his hands clutching his steering wheel for support as he tried to make sense of why he’d called her._

_“Well, it’s not like I have a lot of other options,” she said in a dry laugh. “Why? Are you auditioning for the part?” she asked, and he could tell she was joking._

_“You can put me down,” he offered, his tone even and serious._

_“Elliot…I was kidding,” she clarified._

_“Well, I’m serious, it’s not a big deal if you need to put me down.”_

_“I’ll try to make sure you never have to come identify my body” she said, the job creeping into their conversation._

_“Don’t say that in our line of work,” he said as he tried to push the sight from his mind. It was hard not to talk shop, but he always ended up regretting it._

_“Sorry,” she laughed, clearly hardened by the work they did._

_“So that’s a yes?”_

_“What?” she played dumb._

_“You’ll put me as your emergency contact?"_

_“Sure, if it will get you off this call and home to mow your lawn,” she said as she reminded him that he should be home helping out his wife instead of worrying about her single status._

_“One more thing…” he said before she could hang up on him._

_“You have one minute, but I’ve got to get to my three recorded episodes of ‘The Sopranos.’” she said, and he laughed internally. He tried to get Kathy to watch that show with him, but she’d told him she didn’t like it because of the violence._

_“As your emergency contact, maybe I should have a key to your apartment,” he knew he was crossing several lines, but he couldn’t get over the captain’s comment about how their victim could have laid dead in her apartment for weeks if she hadn't been pushed through the window._

_“I’ve seen you kick in doors. If you don’t hear from me for a few weeks I think that will do,” she said, and he was amazed at how quickly she could deflect. He hadn’t even managed to leave her speechless for more than a second with his request._

_“I’d never use it, we’d never talk about it again, it would be strictly for emergencies. Does anyone have a key to your place, your mother? What if you get sick or fall in the shower or something?”_

_“First of all, I’m not 80 years old, and my mother does not have a key, and I don’t get sick.”_

_“Everyone gets sick.”_

_“Elliot…”_

_“It would make me feel better,” he confessed in a lower tone. He’d spent a year with her now. He had a loyalty to her that extended outside the job. She needed to stay safe so she could do their job. It was reasonable, his request was reasonable. Mostly._

_“I’ll think about it,” she said, and he could hear her swallow._

_“It just makes sense, for security,” he swallowed._

_“For security,” she repeated, and he could hear the edge in her voice._

_“Enjoy 'The Sopranos.'”_

_“Get to fixing that garbage disposal,” she said, and he chuckled against the phone. He’d mentioned to her that the night before his son’s turtle had been sacrificed to his poor plumbing._

_“Goodnight, partner,” he said as he clicked off the call that he never should have made._

_~_

_A few days had passed, and he and Olivia watched in horror as the reality of the case unfolded before their eyes. Their victim had taken her own life as a result of the abuse she suffered at the hands of her father. He felt sick to his stomach. Two nights ago his wife had tried to console him, but she would never understand the horrors of his job. She wanted to talk about math tests and financing braces, and all he could think about was how there were men out there who raped- who raped women, who raped children, and sometimes, actually often, they raped their own children. It was enough to send him spiraling into dark places._

_He could feel Olivia tense beside him as they listened to the victim’s self-written eulogy, read to her abuser by her sister. Not a single man had done right by her in her entire life. He glanced at his partner and couldn’t help but draw another similarity._

_After the sister was done Olivia disappeared to the cribs, and he went to his desk to finish the closing paperwork on the case. He lifted the file to find a key staring back at him. He felt his stomach jump to his throat. He’d let it drop after the phone call, never mentioning another word the next day, knowing he’d probably crossed the line by even suggesting it. He’d wondered what made her decide- it must have been something over the course of the case._

_The key had a small blue ribbon looped through the top. It was gold, and it looked new. She must have had to have it made. He let his finger brush the metal before he quickly slipped it into his pocket._

_They never spoke of it again._

_~_

He found himself wandering into her living room, his eyes roaming over all the little things that make up the life he wasn’t a part of. She didn’t keep a lot of personal belongings, and it bothered him. He’d always wanted to buy her things, maybe she needed a new scarf or a coffee mug or a blanket. But they’d never exchanged gifts; it was another boundary that had to remain intact. 

He bought his wife a lot of things: jewelry, flowers, gift cards to her favorite restaurants, a new vacuum cleaner every time the current one's motor gave out. He had lots of occasions to buy his wife things, too many occasions: _birthday, Mother’s Day, Christmas, anniversaries, and apologies._ He had long ago run out of ideas, even allowing Olivia to pick up his slack and charge some blouses to his Sears card because he didn’t have the first clue on what his wife would want anymore. He sat on Olivia’s couch, looking at her little end tables that were occupied by dying plants, her throw pillows and blankets all over the couch, and he could tell she’d been sleeping on her coach because she had a glass of water, her current book, and her alarm clock sitting in the living room. 

He placed his forehead in his hands. He’d dialed her cell phone too many times to count, and each time he was met with the same automated voice. 

“ _We’re sorry. The number you have reached has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”_

She’d really left without a word, and he had no way of reaching her. It had been two weeks. Each day he went into the squad room hoping to find her back at her desk. _He’d just gotten her back._ They’d closed one case after her return from Computer Crimes, and now she was gone again, except this time he couldn’t take her to dinner and kiss her until she came back. 

Perhaps it was taking her to dinner and kissing her that had sent her on a case with the feds without a word to him. He was thankful that she’d stopped him that night because he would have made a bigger mess out of their partnership. 

He stood from her coach and began to near the door to her bedroom. _He had no right._ But he needed to be close to her. He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted her to pick up her phone so he could tell her how his case was bothering him. The girl with Turner’s syndrome was being taken advantage of by a pedophile, and there was nothing the legal system could do about it. He knew she’d understand how he felt. 

He stepped into her bedroom, knowing that he shouldn’t be there without an invitation. He’d sat at home, trying to talk himself out of it all evening, but he had no one to answer to, and he couldn’t be alone in his apartment with his thoughts. He paced to her dresser; on top she had a tray with all her jewelry. It was strange to see it not attached to her body. She had little gold and silver hoops. Her necklaces were laid out flat. Her gold f _earless_ necklace caught his eye. It worried him that she didn’t have it, _wherever she was._ He picked it up and held it in his hand like it was his rosary. 

He said a silent prayer that wherever she was, she was safe. He had a suspicion that if the feds pulled her, and her phone was disconnected that it meant they had her under. He hoped that whatever the operation was, it wasn’t dangerous. He needed her to come back; he needed her to wear her necklace again. He took a ragged breath as he set it down. He paced to her closet and opened the door. He wanted to see if she had packed her clothes, but from what he could tell it didn’t seem she had come back to her apartment at all. He slid the door on her closet to find a neat row of suits. He let his fingers brush the fabrics. The further down the line the clothes became more casual. He let his fingers trail the cottons. He looked up to her shelves to find jeans and boxes of shoes. He wondered which box had those heels she’d mentioned at dinner. At the bottom of her closet he saw a yoga mat, some photo boxes, bags, and a lockbox. He wanted to open the photo boxes, but he knew he shouldn’t. He wondered if her lockbox code was his badge number. 

He turned his body instead, to face her bed. Her bedspread was pulled back; the brown silk material reminded him of her eyes. Her room was dark and sensual, and he could tell it was her sanctuary. She had two lamps on either side of the bed, a few small decorations, and scented candles on her windowsill. 

He didn’t plan to return to his apartment, and he’d yet to find the comfort he came seeking. He took off his shoes and lowered his body onto her bed. He felt a little like the creeps they dealt with, but quickly shoved the thought away. He just needed to feel like there was still part of her here with him. He let his body fully sink into her mattress. He turned his face into her pillow, his fingers skimming her cotton sheets. He was enveloped in the smell of her laundry soap and _her._ He hugged her pillow and let himself get pulled into a steady, yet guilt-ridden sleep. 

~

_The Next Day_

When he walked in the squad room, he found his wife sitting at his desk. She was holding the picture frame of him holding Maureen and Kathleen when they were little. She told him they needed to speak, and he knew this was coming. He’d been ignoring her for weeks. 

_“Why haven’t you signed the divorce papers? It’s been months, Elliot. You won’t talk to me. You won’t talk to my lawyer...The kids are asking if we’re getting back together...I’ve run out of things to say.”_

_“What do you want?”_

_“An answer”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_“Well, I guess that’s an answer. Call your daughter,”_ she stormed from the precinct, and he stood in the cribs feeling like a fool. Kathleen was angry with him because he’d made her break up with Kevin, a boyfriend he didn’t even know she had until recently, because he was only seeing his kids on weekends. And that was what Kathy wanted him to sign his name to, a lifetime of being a part-time dad. The papers stipulated that she’d stay in the marital home and finish raising the children. He’d pay her alimony and child support, and he’d see the kids every other weekend for visitation. She’d have sole custody. 

The papers detailed it so plainly. _Kathleen Louise Stabler, Elizabeth Joy Stabler, and Richard Joseph Stabler,_ will remain in the custody of their mother _Kathy Marie Stabler._ He knew he could fight the stipulations, spend his entire retirement fund on financing a shark to help him win his kids, but what did he have to offer them? He wasn’t going to kick his wife out of their home, and he couldn’t afford a second place with enough room for all of them to live with him full time. It made the most logical sense that they stay at their home with their mother, but that didn’t mean that signing them away would come easy to him. 

Part of him was still hoping Kathy would take him back into their dead marriage so he could keep his kids. He didn’t want to become a stranger to them, _more than he already was._

When he walked out of the cribs, he found his Captain setting something on his desk. 

“What’s that, Cap?” he asked as he approached his desk. 

“The Brass dropped these off, bunch of pictures from the banquet, thought you might want this one,” Cragen said as he gestured to the framed photo of, he and Olivia from their first holiday banquet. 

He picked up the frame and looked at their smiling faces. Her lips were dark red and grinning right at the camera. He had his arm around her, and she was leaning into him. He set it back down and squinted at his Captain.

“Any word on where she is?” he asked as he willed his voice to stay as even as possible.

“If I knew I’d tell you,” his captain said as he clapped him on the shoulder and began to turn away.

“Oh Elliot, your new partner starts on Monday,” Cragen said as his eyes flicked back to the framed photo of Olivia.

“But when Olivia comes back…” he began but his Captain cut him off.

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” he said. _If._ Elliot felt his chest tighten as he looked to the photo again. He didn’t want a new partner; he wanted Olivia to come back from wherever she’d run off to.

~

Elliot found himself driving to her apartment instead of his once more. The picture frame sat in his passenger seat. He knew he should call Kathleen and apologize for his behavior, but he felt exhausted. All he wanted was to lay on top of Olivia’s bedspread again.

He opened her door and instantly felt his muscles relax a little as he stepped inside her space. He carried the frame with him, setting the picture in her living room, hoping that she’d want to keep it there once she returned. She needed more personal belongings, and he’d thought maybe he’d found a way to give her one. It wouldn’t be too incriminating because the department had given it to them. It wasn’t like he’d printed it and framed it himself. He smiled at the sight of it sitting on her bookcase.

He moved once more into her bedroom. He realized he was more comfortable at her apartment than he was inside his own. He took off his shoes and considered taking off his jeans, but he knew he shouldn’t. He sat on her bed, his eyes darting to her closet. He wanted to snoop more. He knew he had a problem with that. He was always getting in trouble with his kids for snooping through their things. He told himself he did it for their safety, but the truth was he just wanted to know everything there was to know about them. When they were first married, he used to creep through Kathy’s things, and she told him he was paranoid. Over the years he’d stopped.

He couldn’t help himself. He paced to the closet door, sliding it open from the opposite side this time. His eyes landed on a row of dresses. Some of them he recognized from various undercover operations. Most of them were black. Some of them he’d never seen before though; they were casual. The kinds of dresses you would wear to walk through Central Park on a spring day or the kind of thing Kathy wore when they took the kids to the beach. He pulled one out, the red cotton ruffled and printed with little flowers. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to picture her in something so carefree and simple. He wondered if she’d ever worn it or if it was a gift, she hadn’t had time to return. He checked for the tag; there was none. He lifted the fabric to his nose and inhaled. It smelled like laundry soap which meant she’d worn it and washed it at some point.

It bothered him that she’d worn this dress, and he hadn’t seen her in it. She was this whole person outside of work that he didn’t get to know, he wanted to know that _Olivia._ He carefully placed the dress back in its spot so she wouldn’t know he’d touched it. His mind flashed to thoughts of some other man taking it off her, and he felt his shoulders tense. He dropped to his knees as he reached for her photo box. He knew it was an invasion, but he wanted to know everything about her. She could yell at him if she ever decided to come back. He opened the lid to find a messy gathering of photos and clippings. He reached for a small stack, realizing that there was no organization, just small fragments of her life thrown into a dusty and forgotten box.

The first few photos were likely from college. She was in groups with other girls, her hair was three times the length it had been when she’d first started working with him, but the same shade of dark brown. Her face was young and full of light. In one photo she was sitting on a twin XL bed with her bare legs resting on the back of a desk chair, a Pink Floyd t-shirt tied above her navel. She was throwing a peace sign and it made him laugh. He turned it over to see she’d written in sharpie on the back. _Freshman move in._ Her handwriting looked different when it wasn’t on DD-5 forms.

He flipped through more college era photos, becoming more and more surprised by the beauty and femininity she kept under such tight wraps on the job. He wondered when she decided to be a cop, because at nineteen she looked so carefree, a far cry from the serious and guarded woman he knew. The further he dug through the box the younger she became.

His fingers stilled on a polaroid where she was no more than twelve. She was standing with the San Francisco skyline behind her, and he couldn’t help but notice how sad she looked. She was holding a gift shop bag. He assumed her mother must have snapped the polaroid because it was blurry. He could barely see the browns of her eyes, only the frown on her face. Below it was her prom photo. She had on a red dress, permed hair, and a lackluster date standing behind her.

He dug deeper until he came across a picture where she couldn’t have been more than five. She was grinning into the camera, chocolate cake crumbs on the corners of her mouth. She had a party hat tangled in her unkempt dark curls. Her hair was wavy as a child, and it occurred to him that she never wore her natural hair. He wondered why, when it was so beautiful. Her little face was charged with sugar and happiness. He’d wondered for so long what she had looked like as a child. He held the photo closer to his face and wondered how someone so pure could have come from the pain they dealt with every day. Her child eyes looked at him, burning him with the reminder that no matter how bad he wanted to, he couldn’t go back and protect that baby, tell her that when she learned about her conception that it shouldn’t change how she saw herself through those eyes of hers. He could only know her now, the woman who had learned to keep everyone out. He turned the photo over to find her writing once more- _my first and last birthday party._

_~_

_Several Weeks Later_

Dani Beck didn’t care about the victims. He could respect her as a cop; she was a damn good one, but she saw right through the victims, could only focus on the collar. He’d come to appreciate things about Dani despite that. She wore casual clothes, and she didn’t mess around. Her energy was different. She filled the space at Olivia’s desk across from his, and he was surprised that after a month or so of working with her, he’d started to look up and expect to see her there instead of Olivia. In his mind it was still Olivia’s desk, and he still told himself everyday it was temporary, but he was beginning to be okay with her settling in a little. She kept a picture frame of her dead husband on the desk.

They talked about that, about how she’d lost her husband. They had been sitting in her car, which _was_ her husband’s car, and she told him how he was shot in the head while on the job. The whole conversation reminded him of the time when Olivia told him the truth of her childhood on an early morning stake out. The difference was he’d only been working with Beck for a few weeks, and she’d completely opened up to him, nine years had passed with Olivia, and he was still uncovering the depths of who she was and what she kept hidden. He kept that picture of her with her party hat on, set it on her nightstand when he slept in her bed. He hadn’t been back to her apartment in a week or so because he told himself he couldn’t keep doing it. _He missed the smell of her sheets._ Dani sharing her struggles served to be a decent distraction from Olivia. Despite missing the warmth of her bedroom, he found himself surviving through the night in the confines of his own apartment walls.

He’d started wearing jeans and cotton t-shirts. Dani told him it would help him run faster. He figured maybe change was a good thing.

 _“How long were you with your old partner?”_ Dani had asked and the phrase _old_ partner sounded strange coming from her mouth, but then he began saying it himself as the months on the calendar ticked by.

“ _My old partner was a product of rape,”_ he’d said as emotion brimmed his eyes. He wasn’t sure why discussing her truth always killed him inside. Dani didn’t understand how a mother could choose to keep the child of her rapist, and he immediately felt his fists clench in defense of his partner, _his Olivia._ He thought about that picture of her smiling five-year-old face, he thought about all the good she’d done working this job for so long, and he thought about how altered his life would have been if Serena Benson had the choice of an abortion all those years ago. Maybe it was the Catholic in him, but every life had worth, and although he agreed with a woman’s right to choose, he would forever be grateful that Serena Benson didn’t have the choice.

~

Dani asked him to go with her to confront her husband’s killer. He stood in the corner of the holding cell as she said her piece to a man who was practically a teenager, a reckless and selfish young man who’d upended her life. He felt for his new partner. She was motivated by collaring as many killers as she could in the name of her husband. She had the right to be angry over her loss. He felt bad for what she was going through. He felt it necessary to support her in her quest for closure, just as he’d gone with Olivia to find the man who could have been her mother’s rapist. It was what a good partner did. But as he stood there, he realized that while he wanted to support Dani, he didn’t _feel_ for her.

When he looked at Dani, he saw an attractive woman with a mission, but he didn’t see himself reflected back in her eyes. They worked well together, but she didn’t mirror his movements like she had control over his limbs. When she was angry, his blood was even. He liked getting to know her, but he didn’t _need_ to know her. When he’d shaken her hand for the first time, he didn’t feel like he was being reintroduced to someone he’d been missing his whole life.

When she spoke to the man who killed her husband, his heart didn’t break. He was able to stand there and be there if she needed him. He realized that while he’d become swept up in the distraction of getting to know a new partner, he would never be connected to her in the way he was with Olivia. He liked Dani Beck a lot; he’d never _love_ her.

~

He’d avoided her apartment for almost three weeks. His senses had acclimated to not having her scent to fall asleep. But after going with Dani to the jail, he needed to feel close to Olivia again. Dani had asked if he wanted to get drinks, and he could see the glint in her eyes. He knew that she could probably kiss him after two beers and end up taking him to bed in order to fill the void her husband had left. He knew he couldn’t do it to either of them. They’d both be using each other in place of who they really wanted, even if the thought of having a warm body did seem enticing. It had been a long time since he’d been with anyone. Olivia was the last woman he’d kissed. _He wanted to kiss her again._

He pulled back her comforter, allowing his body to slip under it. It was another step further into her space that he didn’t have the right to take. He laid on his back, his eyes fixed on her ceiling. He watched the shadows of passing cars from her bedroom window reflect onto the dark walls. He turned to pick up her photo on her nightstand, his eyes falling to the nightstand drawer.

 _He shouldn’t, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t._ He rolled back onto his back, turning her childhood photo upside down.

Ten minutes passed before he gave in and opened her drawer. _He was going to hell._ Staring back at him was an assortment of items: Some candles, Chapstick, a pile of bookmarks, a small box of condoms, a pack of birth control pills, a vibrator, a pink leather-bound journal, and a few loose pens.

His mind was reeling. He reached first for the pack of pills. He was treating her drawer like he was going through a crime scene, looking for all the small details. The pharmacy pick up date was from over nine months ago, and she’d stopped taking them half-way through the month. He realized all his fears about her showing up pregnant weren’t unfounded. She’d probably stopped taking the pills for a reason. He quickly tossed the pack back where he found them, his eyes moving to the sleek purple vibrator, which was half wrapped in a scrap of velvet.

He felt his cheeks flush. He’d never seen one outside of their work. His wife would never own one or admit to owning one. If she had one, she’d kept it hidden for twenty years. But Olivia kept hers next to her bookmarks like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. He tried to rid his mind from visuals of her using it as he turned his attention to her journal. He picked it up and turned back onto his back.

He knew reading someone’s journal was the ultimate intrusion; his daughters had told him so much, but if he couldn’t hear her voice, at least he could read her words. He felt the weight of the book in his hands, his thumbs skimming the faux leather as he thought about how _un-Olivia_ the pink seemed, even the notion of her keeping a diary seemed _un-Oliva._ He opened the cover. She had her name written on the top corner of the inside cover. _Olivia M. Benson_ and the date 1997 _._ He realized the journal was from before their first year as partners. On the inside cover she had taped fortune cookie slips. He smiled as he touched them. She always held onto those things, every time they ordered take out in the squad-room. She probably had a hundred of them in her desk drawer, or _had_ a hundred, before Cragen pushed them all into a box that sat in his office, waiting for her to return and claim them once more. The three on the inside of her cover said,

_“Fear and desire-two sides of the same coin.”_

_“Fearless courage is the foundation of victory.”_

_“A faithful friend is a strong defense.”_

He wondered what about those specifically spoke to her, and he wondered when she had taped them inside. He shamelessly wondered if some of them had to do with him.

He turned the first page to find pages full of writing, all dated before her start at SVU. She mentioned a breakup with a journalist. He found himself laughing in the silence of her bedroom at her internal monologues. He could hear her voice so clearly as he read her inked words. He touched the letters and could feel how her pen had indented the paper. He kept turning until he arrived at entries dated 1998. He read about all her apprehensions and desires to join the unit. She talked about the heat wave the summer before she started, and he thought it was funny that before she came to work at SVU she had time to write about the weather in her diary. She was funny, all her jokes and quips on the pages. Then he found the entry from her first day at SVU.

_September 1998_

_“Dear Diary, I felt so nervous walking into the crown jewel of the NYPD, and then I had the pleasure of being introduced to detective Cassidy and Munch. I thought, this has to be a mistake. This can’t be SVU, maybe traffic enforcement, or post office security. Then the captain introduced me to the man who I’d be partnered with. We shook hands and he looked at me like I was going to be a problem for him. I guess he’s probably not thrilled about breaking in a rookie. I hope I can show him that I’m meant to do this job. The first thing I noticed was that he was attractive, probably not the best thing to be thinking right out of the gates, especially since he is very married and probably a Republican,”_ he found himself laughing again as he read her first impressions of him, then he was overcome with the realization that it had all be there, _it had all been there,_ right from the minute their hands clasped. He knew he should stop reading, but he was hooked. he’d never read an entire book in his whole life, but he’d read anything she’d written.

_“His name is Elliot Stabler. It’s a nice name, a lot better than Munch. I think it’s funny how nice Elliot and Olivia sound together. My last partner’s name was Patrick. Anyways, for my first day I accompanied Elliot on a victim’s statement. Hearing details of a rape was harder than I’d expected. I thought I’d played it cool, but Elliot patted my shoulder and said, ‘there’s no crying in baseball,’ I would have written him off as an asshole if he hadn’t offered to take me to lunch. Over some greasy pizza he asked if I was married. He told me his kids' names, Maureen, Kathleen, Elizabeth and Richard. They go by Lizzie and Dickie though, which I think is kind of silly. I do like the name Elizabeth for a girl though. I’m writing their names down so I don’t forget, I can tell they mean everything to him.”_

He turned the page. Her next entry was a month later.

_October 1998_

_“Dear Diary, I got an invitation to April’s wedding. I guess I’m happy for her. Everyone around me is married or getting married. I never admired marriages much, but my partner seems to make it work. He always talks about what he’s going to do for his wife on the weekend. He’s so domestic, he didn’t even know what reverse cowgirl meant when a witness said it. I might just tell April that I’m too busy with work to go, I hate sentimental stuff, and if I’m going to put on a dress I might as well try to cultivate my own love life.”_ He recalled her explaining to him what reverse cowgirl was on the drive back to the stationhouse; he’d felt like an idiot the entire drive. He turned more pages. She’d left some blank or maybe some had been ripped out. Her next entry was from 1999.

_August 1999_

_“Dear Diary, I gave Elliot a key to my place. God help us if he ever uses it.”_ He couldn’t help but feel like an Olivia from the past was speaking to him now as he laid in her bed and fulfilled her prophecy inked on the page. _God help them._

_October 1999_

_“Dear Diary, I slept with Brian Cassidy, he didn’t even make me come, men really aren’t good for anything.”_ The laugh made his chest rise, the joy filling him before he noticed that her entries had become shorter. He wondered if it had to do with time or if she felt like there were things that she couldn’t even admit to the pages of her diary anymore.

_February 2000_

_“Dear Diary, it’s my 31st birthday, Elliot did my paperwork and brought me a coffee, I drink the stuff now, it’s making my teeth yellow. I’m afraid I’m getting old; I have some lines around my eyes that weren’t there last year. I’m not sure if it’s the job or simply age. Some days I don’t feel attractive anymore. I know people find me attractive, except maybe my partner, he never takes the bait when people make comments about me, maybe he doesn’t see me that way, he shouldn’t, I guess I should be grateful that he doesn’t look at me like that. I don’t think he even knows I’m a woman on most days, just his partner.”_ He wasn’t sure how she could have written this because he was pretty sure the entire first year of their partnership, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. He wished he could go back and tell her how beautiful he thought she was, he’d always thought that, he’d always seen it. It never occurred to him that Olivia would have all the same insecurities that every other woman did. _She needed to be told that she was pretty._ He added it to the list of things he needed to make right when she returned. 

_February 2001_

_“Dear Diary, my mother died. I wish I had more to say.”_ He looked at the messily scrawled letters and wished she had written more so he could understand her better, but perhaps the brevity gave him more insight than length. Olivia didn’t know how to talk about the things that hurt her heart. His thumb flicked through the pages with the horrible realization that she’d stopped writing. He hated to think that he contributed to the silence. He was about to close the book when the back page revealed some hidden writing, the page was dated 2006 in the top corner. It was a list with two columns. _Boys Names: Ethan, Owen, Landon, Lucas, Jude. Girls names: Violet, Christine, Aubrey, Emilie, Emmie, Madison, Malia._

_~_

_One Week Later_

He turned his body, so he was cornering her into the jeep, his fingers reaching for her waist as he kissed her. He was kissing Dani Beck. He was kissing her because it was simple. She didn’t hang up on him after months of waiting to hear from her. She didn’t hide her heart from him. She wasn’t _precious_ to him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever kiss Olivia again, so he was kissing Dani Beck because he knew the failure of their partnership wouldn’t cost him everything. He was kissing her because after six months of knowing nothing, his heart and mind and mouth needed a better distraction. Then their phones beeped.

Later that night, after she’d fired her gun, he’d offered to take her home, and she’d turned him down. He went and sat at a bar for a few hours alone, only nursing one beer. Then he decided to drive home. He knew he’d dodged a bullet. He was being inconsiderate and desperate, trying to start something with his temporary partner. Even if she wasn’t temporary, she felt temporary in his mind. If he was being honest with himself, he was devastated when Olivia hung up his call. He’d only wanted to know she was safe, and she couldn’t even manage a word before shutting him out. _Fin had gotten to speak to her._

What had he been thinking? Kissing Dani when he still had his divorce to sort out and _Olivia_. He needed to make it right with Olivia, and all he was doing was screwing up further. He hadn’t been back to her apartment since the night he read her diary. He’d seen the list of her baby names and he fell asleep to visions of a little girl with dark brown curls and blue eyes. That was when he knew for sure he was in way over his head. He couldn’t show up for the kids he already had, he’d decided to call a divorce attorney to negotiate the papers, and now he was picturing what his and Olivia’s child would look like? He needed to stay away from her because he couldn’t give her what she deserved. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. He could kiss Dani Beck and make a bigger mockery out of the restraint he reserved only for Olivia. He needed to stay away; he’d only hurt her again and _again_. He didn’t deserve her.

He took a sharp turn towards her apartment, knowing he’d never be immune to needing her when he was lost.

~

As soon as he stepped inside, he could sense something had shifted. He closed the door quietly as his eyes canvassed how objects had been moved. _She’d been here. She was back._ He felt his stomach plummet through the four-floor walkup. _She was back. How long?_ He hadn’t come for a week, _had she been back all this time without calling him?_ She would know he had been here by the picture frame and the wrinkles in her sheets. _Would she have not called him?_

He walked to her bedroom, his pulse hammering against his neck. He leaned against her door frame, and he peered inside. Sure enough, her body was lying on the bed, the side he’d slept on all the months she’d been gone. _Gone._ She’d been gone, and now she was back. Right before his eyes. He could make out the outline of her shape under her bedspread. She was so still; he could barely make out the rustle of her breathing. Her long hair was fanned over her pillow, her hip curving as she slept on her side.

He lingered as he watched her sleeping. It concerned him that she hadn’t woken when someone had entered her apartment, but he knew she was a deep sleeper, even in the cribs he’d have to call out her name a few times before she’d stir awake, or maybe some subconscious part of her knew that her intruder was only him. He pushed himself off her door frame and walked towards her bed. She was like gravity, pulling him towards her.

“Liv,” he whispered, and she stirred, turning from her side to her back. He took his shoes off and his jacket, the noise causing her eyes to open. He was wearing a grey cotton long-sleeve and his jeans. He moved towards the side of the bed, pulling back her bedspread as he took in the sight of her grey cotton pajama shorts and white tank top. Her skin was bronzed. Wherever she had been, there had been sun. She looked the same and entirely different. _He had her back_ , right below his eyes.

“Lay with me,” she said through sleep, her words breathy and tired. She spoke the words like she’d been expecting him. He slipped off his jeans, leaving him in his boxers, because he didn’t want the denim to be rough against her exposed skin. He lowered himself over her, allowing his weight to press against her. He wanted to trap her under him, to assure himself that she wasn’t going to disappear again. She murmured as he settled against her. He could feel the soft skin of her thighs against him and the heat of her body radiating around him, pulling him down. He let his hands cage either side of her head, the weight of his chest pressing into her smaller body, as he took in the sight of her. Her hair was darker and longer, and she had bangs cut across her forehead. He let a finger brush the bangs and that caused her eyes to open below him.

“I was so worried, Liv,” he said as his finger continued to stroke the small pieces of hair. He moved his hands from around her head, down her shoulders and to her sides as he rose slightly off of her. He looked down at her body, trying to convince his mind that no harm had come to her. She was whole and safe beneath him. _Six months,_ he hadn’t seen her in _six months._

“I’m sorry,” she said as her eyes tried to stay open, “I’ll tell you everything…tomorrow,” she added as her lashes rested on her cheeks once more.

“Can you breathe with me on top of you?” he asked as he let a thumb stroke her cheek.

“I like you on top of me,” she whispered, and he leaned down and kissed her mouth softly. He knew he shouldn’t when he’d just kissed Dani hours before, but he wanted to right that wrong. He never should have kissed Dani, when all he’d truly wanted was Olivia.

Olivia’s lips were slightly ajar in her half-awake state. She grinned against his mouth “You have a lot of explaining in the morning too,” she said into his kisses, and he knew their peace would be fleeting- it would rise out of his grasp with the morning sun. But for now, he had this moment with her, and he wasn’t going to let her go. She wrapped her arms around his back, pulling his chest back to hers, her legs parting so his pelvis could rest by her knees, his belly cradled by her hips.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” he said as he peppered kisses down her neck. “And warm” he added, “And home,” he finished as he rested his mouth against her collar bones. When she didn’t say anything, he looked up to find her eyelashes resting against her flushed cheeks. His kisses must have been warming her even more. He moved his palm to her neck to feel her pulse, the steady thrumming of her lifeline.

“I missed you,” he added as he laid his cheek against the swell of her breasts. Her body gave him so much ease. Her palms were feather light against the backs of his rib cage as she embraced him in her sleep. He felt her breathing deepen, the rise and fall of her chest taking all the tension from his mind. He’d never laid with a woman in this way before, not his mother when he was a child, or his wife when he was a man. He’d never been held like this before, so surrounded, so enveloped _,_ so _attached_. Olivia was this end and beginning that he couldn’t fully fathom. He kept brushing his mouth over the tops of her breasts, barely kissing her, just grazing her as she slept, tasting the skin he’d missed, as he finally spoke the truth into the breastbone that guarded her heart.

“ _I love you_.”


	21. Defeated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olivia's P.O.V.

“Do you have a habit of breaking into women’s apartments these days?” was the first thing she said when she opened her eyes to the morning hues. She’d woken up with Elliot still resting against her, her legs and arms wrapped around him. Her body was crushed against the mattress, but she didn’t mind the pressure. In fact, she needed it; it felt like returning after floating for months. She’d missed New York, she’d missed her job, she’d missed her bedroom, she’d missed the man on top of her.

“ _Does your partner back home find you as annoying as I do?”_

_“We’re best friends.”_

She could sense that he was already awake against her. After a beat of silence he lifted his face from her chest and raised his eyes to her. It occurred to her that he’d slept the whole night with his cheek pressed to her heart. The sun was filtering through her bedroom window, and she couldn’t deny how rested her body felt, as if he’d charged her, but she was quickly overcome with the need to deny how intertwined they were. _Partners didn’t do this._ Partners didn’t let themselves inside with a key they shouldn’t have in the first place and climb on top of each other. She recalled how he’d kissed her lips and neck as she was pulled back into sleep. For hours on the plane, she’d thought about how seeing him would unfold, and she’d never imagined that version of events. She’d expected to come back to his rage, not his hands seeking her skin in soft and somber touches. She should be upset with him for so many things: invading her space, touching her when they hadn’t spoken any words, and _Dani Beck._ She’d gone into the squad room to see him, only to find that he seemed to be getting on just fine with her replacement. They both had incredible amounts of explaining to do, but all she really wanted was to lie with him a little longer, feel his touch a little deeper.

“Only yours,” he said, the sunlight catching on his blue irises. She realized that in all the years she’d looked at his eyes, she’d never noticed them glow in this way. This side of Elliot was so stripped down and calm that it made the hairs rise at the back of her neck. She didn’t know how to approach this version of him; she couldn’t anticipate his next moves.

“We agreed you’d never use that key,” she said as she looked down at his face. She’d never held a man like this before. She felt responsible for him, like he was hers to always look after. She wanted to keep her hands on the back of his rib cage forever, protecting him from anything, from the words they’d have to exchange, and the explaining they’d have to do. She wanted to protect him from _herself_. Elliot was a two-hundred-pound man who could hold his own in just about any fight, but as he laid with her, she became too aware of his morality. She’d left him for months, allowing someone else to be responsible for his life. She wasn’t sure when she’d forgive herself for that.

“Well things change when you up and leave without a word,” he said as he lifted her enough to slip his hands behind her shoulder blades, so she was basically resting in his open hands, his hips shifting directly above hers. 

“How long have you been coming here?” she said as she quickly tried to regain control of the conversation. She wanted him to answer first.

“Not much,” he replied, not directly answering her question. She narrowed her eyes on him. “For a while, on and off,” he confessed.

“You’ve been sleeping here?” she asked, keeping her voice even.

“Sometimes.”

“If you knew I was back, why didn’t you call me first?” she questioned as she thought about how he’d come in last night and kissed her as if they didn’t have anything to deal with.

“I didn’t know you were back…” he said as he pulled her into a sitting position, his body following hers, as they both fell cross-legged on the bed. The sheet fell from around them, leaving her arms and legs exposed to the air coming through the cracked window.

“What do you mean you didn’t know I was back? I came to the squad room, spoke to your _partner."_

“Dani didn’t say anything,” he said as he ran a hand down his face. She could see him tensing, the light deserting his gaze as his eyes landed on her once more.

“Dani…” she repeated in a voice lower than a whisper, as she stood from the bed, and his hand tried and failed to pull her back. Instead he swung his legs over the edge of the bed so he could face her once more.

“Why didn’t you come see me when you came?” he asked as he swept his eyes over her pajama-clad body. She crossed her arms over her white tank top as she stood in front of his sitting form.

“I came to see when I could come back, but then I decided I still wanted some time away.”

“What is that supposed to mean? You haven’t even told me where you’ve been!”

“Oregon, I was living with a group of environmentalists who Dana thought might have been part of an ecoterrorism group, but they weren’t.” 

“Oregon,” he repeated, more to himself than to her, as he pulled a hand down his face.

“Yeah, when I agreed to the undercover operation, I had no idea how long it would be for, and they disconnected my phone.”

“But you were safe.”

“I drank a lot of kombucha with a bunch of hippies, even managed to solve a local kidnapping before they sent me on my way. I was safe,” she confirmed because she knew that he needed the peace of mind.

“Of course you did,” he smirked as he shook his head softly.

“Have you been keeping safe?”

“Got stabbed with a pen in the shoulder,” he laughed as he kept his eyes on the ground. She could tell he was still trying to process.

“Where was your partner?” she said with a critical arch to her eyebrow. He looked up and gave a slight eye roll in response. “So she didn’t mention me?” she asked because she couldn’t help herself. The sight of that woman sitting at her desk was still gnawing at her. She knew what she’d walked them into when she agreed to infiltrate, but it didn’t mean she had to love the fallout of her impulsive decisions. She wanted to be mad at him for growing accustomed to a new partner, but in her heart, she knew she only had herself to blame.

“What?” he asked as his face was overcome with confusion.

“When I came in last week, I spoke to her,” she repeated as she looked to the wall. She’d walked in with so much fresh hope at seeing him again. She’d had months to think about what she was going to say to him. After countless dreams of missing him, wanting him, having him in her dream state, she had known she needed to be transparent with how she felt about him. She knew that when she had been on top of Dean Porter, she had wished it were him beneath her. She had known that when her plane touched down in LaGuardia that she’d make it right. If he wanted her, she’d let him have her. Giving herself over to someone wasn’t something that came easily to her, but if she was being honest with herself, she’d already relinquished that control to Elliot. Now she only had to admit that she had. They could figure out the job. Computer Crimes wasn’t so bad. 

Then she had seen Dani Beck at her desk, and all her hope had drained like the color was currently draining from his face. He was her partner. She wanted him as _her_ partner. She wanted that woman far away from her desk. She felt foolish for everything she’d even thought about disclosing. Oregon had made her grow soft, made her think it could all be so simple. She felt like a _fool._

“She didn’t say anything about speaking to you. I didn’t expect you to be home when I came here last night.” 

“Then why did you come?”

“Olivia…” he started and then stopped as he covered his teeth with his top lip.

“You need to explain yourself, Elliot. Coming to my apartment? Sleeping in my bed? You thought I’d be fine with all that?” she said, the heat rising in her chest. She turned as she walked towards her living room. She didn’t know why she was lashing out.

“I need to explain myself! You’re the one that disappeared, I couldn’t call your phone and then as soon as I do get you on the line you hang up on me!” he shouted from the bedroom, and she could hear him struggling to pull on his clothes and hang on to some composure in his voice.

“I was on a payphone, and two people from my group walked up, right as you got on the line,” she defended as he emerged from her bedroom. She could see the iciness in his stare.

“Bullshit, you didn’t want to talk to me. If it was me, I would’ve found a way to contact you,” he said as he crossed his arms over his chest. They were standing on opposite sides of the living room.

“Don’t you have to get to work,” she growled as she flicked her eyes towards her door.

“When are you coming back?” he asked, ignoring her question.

“Do you want me back?” she retorted. She began to panic as she watched his mouth grappling for an answer. She couldn’t anticipate what he was going to say. She didn’t know where their partnership stood, where his marriage stood, where he stood with _Dani Beck._ She felt her stomach clench, she felt sick, she felt exhausted. She’d missed him so much, and now they were right back to where they’d been when she left in the first place.

“Of course I want you back, Liv. I never wanted you to leave,” he said as he dropped his arms and moved towards her, trying to bridge the distance of her living room. _He wanted her as his partner._ He’d been relieved when she’d pushed the distance between them after she returned from Computer Crimes. They’d gone back to being _Benson and Stabler,_ and it had worked.

“What about Dani?” she asked as she willed her feet to stay planted when her mind was begging her to run towards her kitchen, begging her to put her countertop between them.

“What about Dani?” he repeated as he swallowed, and she could tell that he got nervous every time her name was mentioned. There was something that he didn’t want her to know.

“What’s going on with her?” she asked because she had to. She needed to know if what she’d suspected the moment, she had seen him come up behind her and lean on her shoulder, was true.

“I’m working with her, because you gave me no choice.” He grated, his jaw twitching.

“You two seemed pretty _comfortable_ ,” she said as she eyed him, trying to compel him to spill a truth she wasn’t sure she could handle. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much; she’d been working with Dean and grew _close_ to him.

“What are you asking me, Olivia,” he said as he re-crossed his arms, pulling up his guard.

“Are you sleeping with her?” she let drop, her voice barely audible. She watched for his reaction. It looked like she’d just taken a knife to his lungs. He sucked in a breath before saying,

“I kissed her.” Somehow that admission was worse than what she’d suggested. Whatever weapon she’d inflicted on him had turned around and hit her too. _Kissed her._

“Why?”

“It was a mistake. I came here…after…” he said as he tried to get her to look at him, but she couldn’t bring herself to face him.

“You kissed her yesterday?” she asked as she fit the timeline together, the realization somehow making it worse.

“Yes,” he nodded, and he tried to speak more, but she cut him off.

“When did you start kissing partners?” she said as she thought about every time that he could have kissed her over the years and _didn’t._

“It wasn’t a risk with Dani,” he said as he took another step towards her, but her feet caved to her mind, and she made a beeline towards her kitchen.

“What is that supposed to mean?"

“She feels temporary.” _Feels,_ he was using the present tense. Reminding her with each sentence that Dani Beck was currently his partner, not her. 

“So you could kiss her, mess up that partnership, because you knew I’d come back eventually.”

“Something like that,” he shrugged, and it broke her heart. He wanted her back as his partner. She didn’t know where his marriage stood, but clearly, he had no issue being with other women, _Rebecca Hendrix._ She made the horrible realization that when she returned, he intended to keep her as _only_ his partner.

“Is that supposed to make me feel good, Elliot? Because it doesn’t.”

“It was stupid…”

“Have you even signed your papers?!” she shouted as her hands clutched the ridge of her counter.

“I’m working with attorneys,” he swallowed.

“So no!” she shook her head as a bitter chuckle emitted from her mouth. She’d had plans to tell him how she wanted him to sign those damn papers if he hadn’t, and now she couldn’t believe she’d even considered being honest about what she wanted from him. She shoved those thoughts, _hopes_ deep down- _where they belonged._

“Olivia…"

“But you thought it would be a great idea to kiss your new partner and then crawl on top of me? And if I come back to work, we’ll just pretend that didn’t happen, right?!”

“You asked me to lie with you!” he shouted back as he approached the counter. He was trying to make this her fault.

“Well, I didn’t ask you to break into my apartment!” She watched him assess her cheap shot, and he seemed to be considering his words. His tone was softer when he said,

“I tried to tell you it was because I missed you."

“Missed me as your partner or missed touching me?"

“Both,” he sighed, and once again they were right back where they started.

“Well Dani can help you out with both those things, now can’t she!” she said as her voice ticked up again. She chanced a look at him, and she could tell how frustrated she was making him.

“Liv.”

“Just go, alright, I don’t want to talk anymore,” she said as she gestured towards her door.

“So that’s it? I haven’t seen you in months, and you’re just going to show me the door?"

“What do you want me to say?!”

“I want you to say that I haven’t lost you! I’ve spent months thinking I’d lost you.” His words scared her.

“Well, that depends on how long Dani can put up with you,” she said, bringing it back to work because it was all she was capable of.

“So you want to come back?” he asked, and she assessed his face, _wasn’t that what he wanted?_ Isn’t that why he’d told her he’d kissed Dani? He could kiss Dani because he knew she’d save him from his mess by returning. She’d be the partner who’d keep him faithful and remind him that he wasn’t the kind of man who crossed lines with coworkers. _Except that was a bunch of bullshit_. She was trying to understand how this unraveled from her grasp so quickly. She’d had so much she wanted to say to him, and now she couldn’t find the words. She wanted her job back, but she also wanted him to kiss her, not _Dani Beck._

“I don’t know anymore, Elliot,” she sighed as she repeated, “Just go.” He clenched and unclenched his fist before forcing his hurt eyes off of hers. The sound of her door shutting made her want nothing more than to have him back in her bed, whispering words of how much he’d missed her against her neck. He’d tried to make it make sense, but she hadn’t been listening. She couldn’t listen because it scared her. It was easier to fight him than to let him in. _She was a fool._

_~_

_The Next Day_

Casey was sitting in the booth waiting for her to arrive. Casey had reached out to have dinner with her now that she’d returned. She considered Casey a friend, not a close friend, but their jobs gave them commonality.

“I like the bangs!” Casey smiled as Olivia took the seat across from her.

“Thanks, my hairdresser was nice enough to fix the mess my hair became in Oregon,” she said, and then she ordered a glass of wine in the next breath.

“Crazy that they had you all the way in Oregon,” Casey shook her head as if she was recalling how hard it had been to trace her last week when she needed her to come back and testify on a case.

“I know, it was definitely a change of pace.”

“I had everyone and their brother trying to track you down. Elliot tried to bribe Huang into pulling strings. They really didn’t want anyone finding you,” Casey said, and the mention of her partner made her involuntarily tense, even though Casey was just mentioning him in passing.

“Yeah all that, and the group I was with wasn’t even involved,” she sighed, _all that and she was right back where she’d been with Elliot when she’d left._

“So when do you start back to work?” Casey asked as she flipped through her dinner menu.

“Cragen said he’d give me a call when they need me…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Casey asked with a raised brow, her deep voice cascading into the booth next to them. She was abrasive wherever she went.

“Means he needs a reason to transfer out the body at my desk,” Olivia groaned, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone.

“Beck?” Casey snickered as her eyes lit with understanding.

“Yeah, what’s the scoop on her?”

“She’s real cozy with your partner,” Casey laughed as she sipped her wine that had arrived before Olivia’s. The confirmation of whatever was going on between Elliot and Beck hit her square in the jaw. She gritted her teeth as she contemplated how to respond.

“I saw,” she swallowed.

“Bet Elliot was happy to see you,” Casey commented as she lifted her eyes over the rim of her glass.

“I didn’t see him, just spoke to Cragen and got the pleasure of meeting Beck…” she seethed. Her denial ran so deep that she didn’t even feel like she was lying to someone she considered a friend. _Elliot used his key to come into my apartment, you could say he was happy to see me when he got in my bed and kissed my neck and chest._ Weren’t those the kinds of things _girlfriends_ talked about? She almost wished she could ask for Casey’s advice, but she knew she could never disclose details of what she did with Elliot.

“He was going to blow a fuse when we couldn’t locate you, and it wasn’t even his case on the line,” Casey said with a throaty laugh. The waitress came and took their orders, interrupting the direction the conversation was going. Once she left, Casey picked up the conversation.

“Well, hopefully Beck doesn’t last long.”

“What’s the deal with her?”

“She came over from the warrants squad, from what I’ve heard she’s a bit of a recluse since her cop husband took a bullet. She’s overzealous, and I’ve heard Cragen’s got her on a tight leash,” Casey said in a low hum, her eyes brightening over the information she had to impart.

“She’s a widow?” Olivia asked as her stomach twisted more. _Jesus Christ, Elliot._ He really knew how to step in something he shouldn’t.

“Yeah, husband died on the job, she’s dragging in every guy off the street trying to avenge him or something,” Casey said with an air of judgement that most would determine made her callous and cold, but Olivia liked how matter-of-fact Casey remained.

“Probably a good mentality in our unit,” Olivia sighed as she saw her job escaping her further.

“Yeah, but not when paired with Elliot. I already know they will probably screw up a case for me. Two hot heads on a team is never good,” Casey said as she shook her head.

“You saying you want me back, Casey?” Olivia smiled, feeling grateful that somebody had missed her on the job. Casey grinned in response as she said, 

“Beck’s alright, but it’s a matter of time. I just hope she doesn’t take a case in flames when she goes down swinging. I’d much rather have you keeping Stabler in check, for the sake of my cases.”

“Is that what everyone thinks around here? That I keep Elliot in check?” She rolled her eyes; she was a detective, not a glorified babysitter. She was sick of this interpretation of their partnership.

“You guys are like yin and yang; I only meant you balance each other better than he and Beck,” Casey shrugged. _Yin and Yang,_ she almost choked on her wine; the notion seemed so cheesy, and she could hardly believe Casey had spoken it.

“Right,” Olivia said as she folded her napkin nervously in her lap.

“So what happens if Beck doesn’t burn out?”

“I guess I see if Queens or Brooklyn SVU have openings. I could move out of my rent-fixed apartment in Manhattan.” _Get a place where Elliot doesn’t have the key._

“Did they have you smoking something in Oregon,” Casey laughed, and she couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“Really though, I’m not sure. I’m hoping I can come back soon…” she said, admitting the truth, even though she’d made it seem to Elliot like it was the last thing she wanted.

“You miss working with Elliot?” Casey asked.

“I guess, I miss the unit,” she said as she cleared her throat.

“I think he misses you,” Casey said as she darted her eyes to Olivia. Casey had never discussed the topic of Elliot this much. Olivia wanted to be careful what she said because she knew Casey was just as much Elliot’s friend as she was hers. Her loyalty didn’t lie with Olivia like Fin’s did. She knew anything she said could get back to Elliot. Casey and Elliot had always talked, about his kids, baseball, the latest playoff victories; _she had to be careful._

“What makes you think that?”

“I watched him kiss Dani Beck,” Casey snorted, and Olivia was overwhelmed. She didn’t understand how that correlated to him missing her, and she couldn’t understand how Casey had seen it.

“What?”

“Yeah, the three of us were at a bar, throwing back some beers after court, and those two slipped out before me. I paid my tab, followed out a few minutes behind them and saw Stabler kissing Beck against the car,” Casey shook her head, excitement in her eyes. She clearly didn’t understand how much these details would make the wine burn at Olivia’s throat.

“And what part of that makes you think he misses me?” Olivia asked as she tried to keep her voice even.

“I mean, the man has kept his hands off you for what? Eight years? And then the minute you have a replacement he has her up against a car?” Casey framed her explanation like rhetorical questions, and Olivia was growing more lost.

“And?”

“It seems like some kind of Freudian slip,” Casey chuckled into her wine.

“You’re going to have to explain.”

“I know you and Elliot are really good at the whole clueless routine, but the man has been separated for what? Over a year? And in all that time neither of you makes a move, to my knowledge…and then the moment you leave, he makes a pass at your replacement? Seems like a man who can’t come to terms with what he really wants, to me anyway,” Casey shrugged, playing off her entire analysis like it was obvious. Olivia felt slack jawed, and Casey only continued to laugh. “If I’m totally off base just tell me so” Casey added as she took a quieting gulp of her alcohol.

“Didn’t they determine Freud was full of it,” Olivia deflected as she too gulped her wine. At her rebuttal Casey broke into another round of laughter.

“Anyone ever tell you that you should be a lawyer, Liv?”

“Once or twice, might consider it now that I’m out of a job,” she sighed.

“It’ll work out,” Casey assured with a lopsided smile that made Olivia feel more hopeless.


	22. Dire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot's P.O.V.

_Two Weeks Later / November 1_ _ st _ _, 2006_

_“You may have another chance.”_

_“Oh, Dani change her mind?”_

_“No. Olivia’s back”_

_Olivia’s back._ Cragen’s words rang in his ears as he walked back to his desk. He hadn’t seen her in the two weeks since he’d left her apartment. He didn’t call her because he knew he’d only make it worse with his words, and she didn’t call him, which he took as a sign that she'd probably determined he was enough of a screw up to cut out of her life for good. He hadn’t been sleeping much; he was missing the familiarity of her apartment, of her _bed,_ and the growing weight that he may never return there had left his eyelids wide, night after night.

Now she was _back._ He knew she was back in Manhattan, knew she was safe, knew that he’d likely lost her for good, but now she was _back,_ back as his _partner._ He’d almost lost hope that her returning to work would happen

He didn’t know how to speak the right words to her, he didn’t know how to get her stubborn ears to hear him, he didn’t know how to tell her that the delay on his papers had nothing to do with her and everything to do with losing his children, he didn’t know how to be what he wanted to be for her, but he hoped with everything he had that he’d at least still know how to be her _partner._

_~_

_Later That Day_

_“Is it the color of my hair?”_ she’d asked the homeless man as she entered the interview room. His eyes shot up at the sound of her voice; it sent chills down his spine to be hearing it once more in the precinct walls. _“Is it brown? Like that?”_ she’d asked as she touched her hair. He wanted to touch her hair again, run his fingers through the longer strands, lay with her and talk about why she let it grow. He wanted to talk about simple things with her, not all the hard stuff.

_“You here to give me a hand?”_ he asked as he turned to face her. If anyone was watching in, it would be pretty obvious that this wasn’t their first time seeing each other since her six-month absence. He knew they should be less transparent at work.

_“Well, Cragen called me. After what you did last night, I’ve been assigned to be your handler,”_ was all she said before she resumed the interview with the deaf man. He slipped into her line of questions, knowing that he couldn’t have it out with her right now. _He would work with her._ His partner was back.

~

_Café Gabrielle_

_“So why couldn’t Dani cut it?”_ she asked as she fumbled with her cup. She’d ordered tea at the counter which threw him off. She was avoiding his eyes, and she hadn’t spoken a word to him in the sedan on the drive over.

_“Couldn’t deal with the victims,”_ he said as he thought about how Dani walked away from the troubled child. He knew that if Olivia had been there, she never would have given up on the little girl. He

_“But you liked working with her,”_ she said as she kept her eyes straight ahead. He knew that she was trying to gauge how he felt about her being back, and her bitterness over Dani was still strong. He’d told her that he viewed Dani as temporary, but in typical Olivia fashion she seemed to refuse to listen to what he’d already told her.

_“She didn’t have to handle me,”_ he responded, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone. She gulped the tea from her cup. The pause was dragging on again, so he interrupted it by asking,

_“How’d you like working alone?”_ All she’d told him was that she’d been in Oregon with environmentalists, but she hadn’t bothered to give him any more information before their entire conversation devolved into a senseless argument.

_“I didn’t,”_ she said in a low and fragile tone. He wanted to press her on it, perhaps open up the wounds they’d made two weeks ago, but before he got the chance, she pointed to a man across the coffee shop.

~

_November 2_ _ nd _ _, 2006_

Dickie had gotten in a fight at school, and Elliot was pretending to not notice the desk jockey make a pass at his partner. Kathy’s voice reprimanded him.

“This is because of you! He’s acting out on what you show him! My attorney is going to love this” her voice screeched against his eardrum, and he wanted to close the phone and make sure Olivia was turning that guy down.

“Kathy, I’ll talk to him alright.”

“You better!” she said as she hung up.

_“Everything okay?”_ Olivia asked as she came up behind him.

_“Dickie got suspended for busting some kid’s lip open.”_

_“Oh, look at you, glowing with fatherly pride,”_ she said. He forced a grin, but it jabbed him that she thought no better of him than his wife. _“Just glad you and Kathy are still talking,”_ she added, and it made him clench his teeth. She could be so damn evasive. He’d tried to tell her he _loves her_. He had climbed on top of her and kissed her and stood in her apartment begging her to open her damn eyes, and she tells him she’s happy that he’s still talking to his wife who he is trying to divorce? He wanted to take her by her upper arms and shake some sense into her, then the intrusive thought sent him into a spiral. He’d never touch her like that, despite what his wife seemed to think; he’d never harm a woman or a child. He hoped Olivia knew that. _She has to know that._ Her words from earlier in the case haunted him,

_“You know, my partner has got a real anger management problem.”_

_~_

_That Evening / November 2_ _ nd _ _, 2006_

He pulled up to his house. He could see Lizzie sitting in the front room reading a book. She didn’t even look up when she heard the car’s motor pull into the driveway. It was his night to see the kids; it was the temporary arrangement they had agreed on until the lawyers settled on a final agreement. Kathy didn’t want him to have any custody, and he’d decided to fight it. If the lawyers couldn’t mediate an agreement between them soon, he knew they’d be taking it to court- the very thing he’d been trying to avoid since the day she told him that she was leaving. He saw that world every day, and the last thing he wanted was to subject his kids to it.

Dickie emerged from the front door and ran towards the car. He swung open the passenger seat, and Elliot couldn’t help but notice the bruises he had on his knuckles.

“Where are you sisters?”

“They don’t want to come tonight,” Dickie shrugged as he closed the door.

“Well…They have to…” he said as he flicked his eyes to his disinterested daughter sitting in the formal living room. She wanted no part of him. Her mother had convinced her that he was nothing more than an angry bastard. _Maybe he was._

“Can we go to Sal’s?” Dickie asked, clearly unfazed by how upset Elliot was about his sisters choosing not to come.

“Sure kid,” he sighed as he backed out of his driveway.

~

“So what’s the deal with you throwing punches at school?” Elliot asked as he took a mouthful of greasy pizza. Dickie was messing around on his phone and he felt like he might as well be eating pizza alone.

“Mom told you?” Dickie said as he dropped his phone and leaned his head against the seat. His hair was falling in his eyes, and Elliot thought he looked like a punk. Kathy needed to get him a haircut.

“Your fists told me,” Elliot said as he nodded to where Dickie’s wrist rested on the tabletop.

“Dude was a bully,” Dickie shrugged.

“How so?”

“He called Sophie a slut,” Dickie said as he licked his fingers. Elliot blinked twice; he’d just heard the word _slut_ come out of his thirteen-year-old son’s mouth.

“Who’s Sophie?”

“My friend.”

“Your friend?” he pressed as he stared at his son. He was so worried one of his daughters would show up pregnant that he’d totally forgotten that his son was approaching the age where he might start to have girlfriends.

“She’s my lab partner in earth science,” Dickie said as he avoided eye contact.

“Why would he say that about her?”

“Because she wouldn’t kiss him! He’s a real jack-hole, Dad,” Dickie said. Elliot could tell that Dickie was obviously flexing his boundaries with him, trying to see if Elliot’s need to buy allegiance in a divorce would cause him to let the curse word slip.

“Don’t speak like that,” Elliot snapped as he leaned across the table “And someone being a jack-hole doesn’t give you the right to punch them.”

“I thought you’d take my side! If someone said that to Maur or Katie or Liz, you’d want me to deck them,” Dickie said, his eyes flaring with spite and valid points.

“What that kid said wasn’t okay, but you can’t go solving problems with your fists.”

“So you wouldn’t have done the same thing if someone had said that about Mom or…or Liv?” Dickie challenged. He was testing him. He knew his son was at the age where he had questions about what was happening with him, what was happening with his parent’s marriage, but it hadn’t occurred to him that his son had the awareness to throw Olivia into the conversation. He was on thin ice with Kathy, and he knew he needed to drill the lesson home, so he didn’t have another strike against him when their mediation ended up in divorce court.

“Listen up, I have to hear the scum of the earth say things about Olivia every day, and sometimes I think about throwing a punch, but I know she wouldn’t want me to do that because it wouldn’t help any. Sometimes being a good friend requires that you don’t make things about yourself,” he said as he made direct eye contact with his son.

“So I’m supposed to just let him say those things, and nothing happens to him!?” Dickie said, and Elliot couldn’t help but notice how much his son looked like him when he was young. He was the spitting image of him.

“Talk to Sophie instead; tell her that you know what he’s saying isn’t true,” Elliot said, feeling like he was doing well with the good fatherly advice. He’d never had conversations like this with his own father. His father had been too busy pummeling his thirteen-year-old jawline. It felt almost nerve-wracking to talk to his own son. He didn’t want to fail Dickie in the same way his father had failed him. He’d never lay a hand on his child, but he didn’t want to teach his child to lay hands on others.

“You tell Olivia that?” Dickie asked, a soft smile climbing onto his face. He was getting older, hardly even a kid anymore. He was catching up to Lizzie in height.

“I do…” he swallowed, “I should more…” he confessed, trying to remain honest with his son.

“Sometimes I get so mad,” Dickie said in a lower voice, his hand curling into a fist on the tabletop.

“I get that, you have to find a better way to channel it.”

“How do you channel it?” his son asked, his eyes seeking guidance with the anger that seemed to plague their bloodline. _I lay against Olivia._

“I…” he began, but when he realized he didn’t have a good answer he tucked his top lip over his row of teeth. “Let’s get going alright,” he said as he left cash on the table and stood to leave.

As they were walking through the parking lot, Dickie was doing weird jumps and hand motions like he was fighting with the air.

“Watcha doing?” Elliot laughed as he watched his goofy pre-teen kid fighting shadows in the parking lot.

“I wanna try out for the martial arts club,” Dickie said as he threw a fake punch in Elliot’s direction.

“Hold your fist like this,” Elliot said as he caught his son’s hand and repositioned his fingers. Dickie looked up at him with a smirk on his smug features.

“So you really think I shouldn’t have punched that jack-hole, or did you just yell at me because mom told you to?!” Dickie asked in a voice that reminded Elliot how young he still was.

“Mostly because your mom told me to,” he chuckled as he ruffled his son’s hair before wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

~

_November 3rd, 2006_

_“Love’s a bitch,”_ she’d said as they approached the elevator.

_“Tell me about it,”_ he sighed as he thought about how rocky things had been between them since she’d returned. He couldn’t even offer her a soda without it becoming about all that had changed between them. She’d made a comment about his jeans, saying he’d traded in his suits, and he couldn’t help but feel like she was extending that to how she felt he’d traded her in for Dani. He thought about how he had six missed calls from his divorce attorney, warning him to not take Kathy’s calls over the fight Dickie had been in- it wouldn’t be good for his case.

_“You know, we’ve been partners all these years. I don’t even know your blood type.”_

_“A-positive.”_

_“How about that? Me too,”_ she said with a quick glance to him as they stepped inside the elevator. They’d been at odds most of the case, and he wasn’t sure how he should be speaking to her anymore, but he tried to channel the advice he’d given his son the night before. He needed her to know that even though it terrified him, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for her, if only she’d ask him for all the things he wished and wanted, to give her freely. 

_“I’d give you a kidney.”_ He’d give her his time, he’d give her his mind, he’d give her his job, and he’d give his life in exchange for her life every time. There would never be a bargain, a shoot-out, or a negotiation where he wouldn’t put her first. He’d die for his children, he’d die for the mother of his children, and he’d die for Olivia. Those were the three things he was still certain of in life. _Love’s a bitch._

_“Not if I gave you mine first,”_ she turned to him with a faint smile, as if the notion of having surgery to save him was as simple as picking up his coffee order. As the elevator door closed, he knew that when it came to Olivia and admissions, that was a pretty damn big one.

~

_That Evening_

“Elliot, glad I caught you, do you have a minute?” His attorney asked, he could tell from the man’s tone of voice that he should sit down. He walked to his living room and sat on his couch.

“Shoot.”

“I just got a call from Kathy’s counsel. They won’t budge on the custody stipulations in the original papers.”

“What changed? After our last meeting it seemed like she was going to agree to Thursdays and every other weekend with the twenty percent custody,” he said as he ran a hand down his face. The whole idea of splitting his children into percentages was a fate he never wanted to face. When he’d put on a hand-me-down tuxedo that his older brother wore at his wedding and fed Kathy discount vanilla wedding cake, he never planned to end up here. He’d gotten married in the first place because Thursday visitation would always leave him feeling like a failure. He’d put on a gold band at seventeen and tied himself to full time. Now everyone wanted him to give that up like it never was expected of him in the first place. He wanted to stand by his kids. He wanted to fight for his kids.

“Her attorney said the kids aren’t doing well. Richard is getting in fights, Elizabeth is refusing the limited visitation, and your teenager has been volatile according to Kathy’s counsel.”

“The exact reasons why they need me around!”

“That’s not what your wife thinks.”

“So what are you telling me, Bill?” he groaned as he leaned forward over his knees. He heard his attorney take in a deep breath.

“Mediation isn’t getting us where we want. I can take this to court, but I have to warn you, Elliot…”

“Warn me of what.”

“I’ve been in this business for twenty years; the wife always wins.”

“I will fight for my kids.”

“And I’ll swing for you if that’s what you decide to do….” He heard the attorney sigh, he knew Bill was a good man, Casey had recommended him. He was known in the community for giving a fair shake. He'd tell his clients their odds before cleaning their pockets. “She’s got a solid case against you. Between your job, the hours, your anger management, violence…”

“I’ve never been violent with my family!” he said in an immediately defensive tone, his words laced with barely subdued anger.

“I wasn’t suggesting you had been. I’m only setting you up for how her team will make it sound. I don’t mean to sound cynical but a guy like you is the perfect enemy in divorce court.”

“I work with kids all the time who have no one! I see druggies and pimps, and pedophiles for parents and you’re trying to tell me that I’m the enemy?!” he laughed darkly into the phone, his fingers clutching to the speakers.

“I’m not your enemy, Elliot, I’m on your side. If court is the way you want to go with this, I’ll draw up the papers, I’m only warning you that it gets nasty and your wife doesn’t seem above pulling out all the stops. Everything you’ve ever done will be put under a microscope.”

“Kathy isn’t like that,” he said, his need to protect his wife still present.

“Divorce does ugly things to people.”

“So you think I should sign away my rights.”

“I think putting your kids through a divorce hearing will only make them more resentful. But it’s your choice. Call me when you decide.”

“Thanks Bill,” he said as he clicked off the phone and let it fall from his hand.

~

Since the phone call he’d been sitting in the same spot for the past three or so hours, his mind racing and empty all at the same time. He was in pain: his mind, his body, his heart. He didn’t know what to do with himself; he could hardly get himself to stand from the sofa. He knew he shouldn’t be alone with his thoughts. He knew he’d grow destructive. His drywall looked tempting, and his knuckles were burning. _Dammit._ What was wrong with him? He was going to lose his kids for that very reason. He was pathetic, _useless._ He was useless to his kids, useless to his wife, useless to Olivia. His kids didn’t want to see him, his wife didn’t want him in their home, his partner didn’t want him near her. _Maybe he should go away?_ Maybe that would make life easier for everyone.

He was weak for even allowing himself to think about it. _Selfish._

He needed to get his head together; he needed help making sense of it all. Olivia’s words from over a year ago rang in his ears, when he’d hugged her in the doorway of his bathroom.

_“If you’re ever not, please tell me.”_

_“Not what?”_

_“Okay.”_

He reached for his phone, where it laid on the ground, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he contemplated calling her. He didn’t want to burden her with his problems, with his _rage._ But he needed her.

“Liv,” he said when she picked up the call.

“It’s late,” she replied in a low tone, and he glanced at his clock, _9:49 p.m._

“Did I wake you?”

“No, couldn’t sleep.”

“Me either,” he swallowed. “I…”

“Why are you calling?”

“You told me to tell you…if I ever…wasn’t.” he said as he balled his free fist. He could hear her sit up, the sounds of her sheets moving around her.

“El,” she breathed, her voice instantly making his fist a little less tight.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, and she was silent. “Look, I know things are a mess, with us…” he sighed, but she cut him off.

“Never mind that; I’m here,” her tone was firm, comforting, composed. She was his _partner-_ his sturdy, grounding, understanding partner, and even though this wasn’t the job, he knew he could go to her with the hard stuff.

“I probably shouldn’t be alone,” he admitted, feeling weak, feeling like all the things his father told him he was.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” she said.

“I miss your apartment,” he confessed, his unspoken request lingering, _can I come over_? He felt like he was standing on the limb of a branch, waiting for her to catch him, or let him fall farther. Relief washed through him when she replied,

“Your key still works.”


	23. Delicate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olivia's P.O.V.

She heard the key turn the knob of her door. She sat up in her bed, switching on her bedside lamp, waiting for him to appear. Her hair was down, she was wearing a tank top and cotton shorts and she wasn’t sure if she should put on more clothing or not.

He arrived in her doorway, his eyes dark and heavy. He was still dressed in his button up and tie. She’d taken a little pride that after her comment about his jeans he’d gone back to wearing his suits the next day. He felt more like her partner already. 

“Come here,” she said, and he followed her command, dropping his keys and wallet on her dresser. He approached her bed slowly before sitting on the side of the it, some distance down from where she sat against her pillows and headboard. She was trying to piece together what had happened. She knew he was always keeping stuff inside, but he’d seemed in an okay mood when they’d left the hospital earlier that day.

_“I’d give you a kidney.”_

_“Not if I gave you mine first.”_

She moved from where she was resting against her headboard, moving down her bed so her chest fit against his back, her arm snaking around his abdomen as she pulled him against her. Her chin rested on his shoulder as she sat on her folded legs behind him.

She could feel his shallow breaths against the flat palm she was holding against his abdominal muscles. He’d made so many excuses to touch her, but she’d never touched him like this, just feeling the dull wave of him breathing in and out underneath her hand. After a few quiet moments, he moved his hand from his knee, placing it over the hold she had on him, spreading her fingers, and letting his own fingers slip between hers.

“Thanks Liv,” he sighed, his head hanging.

“What happened?” she asked, praying that he’d come because he wanted to talk. She knew talking was almost as hard for him as it was for her, but she wanted to carry the weight of whatever was on his mind, whatever had taken the light from his blue eyes.

“A lot of things, I guess,” he sighed, his fingers squeezing hers harder.

“Like what?”

“Kathy is angry with me, my kids don’t want to see me, you’re upset with me.” His words crushed her.

“I’m not upset with you, El,” she said as she let her thumb stroke just below his ribcage, applying more pressure against him with her arm.

“You should be.”

“Why?”

“For starters, Dani…the papers, the case…”

“I’m over it,” she said, and they both knew she was lying. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again.

“Dani called you my _precious_ Olivia,” he whispered, the word carrying weight as it fell from his lips. She was thankful that he couldn’t see her face from the way she was holding him, because she wasn’t sure how to react to the information he’d so simply shared.

“How come?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even, ignoring the implications of a word like that. _Precious._ It was the word used to describe fine jewels, or a child, or something _irreplaceable._

“I didn’t trust her on the job the same way I trust you. Worried how she’d handle the victims…” he said, and she felt foolish for reading into the meaning behind the word.

“It’s a hard job.”

“Liv…” he sighed, and she could sense the nerves in his back.

“Hmm,” she murmured from behind him.

“You are precious to me.” His admission left her speechless. She didn’t know what to say to let him know she understood, so she turned her mouth against his neck, letting her lips press into the skin that was reddened by his collared shirt instead. “Thank you for letting me come here,” he added. 

“Tell me what else is bothering you,” she said as her other hand came around him to undo his tie. She wasn’t going to let him leave once he started being honest. Her fingers made quick work of unknotting the fabric that was holding him together.

“I haven’t signed the papers because I want to fight Kathy for custody,” he said as she slipped the tie all the way off, letting it hit the floor. He didn’t protest her.

“Kathy doesn’t want you to have custody?”

“She wants me to go away. She moved back in the house, will hardly let me see the kids. She’s rebuilt our life but doesn’t want me in it.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t want that; you’re the father of her children,” she said as her fingers undid the top buttons on his collar.

“She doesn’t think it’s good for them to be around me.” His disclosure was broken. He knew that if anything could break him it would be the thought that he was failing his children.

“That’s not true,” she said as she pulled back her arm, breaking their fingers, as she took both her hands on his sides and turned him, allowing herself to slip from behind him and come around to face him. He moved farther back on the bed, turning his knees in towards her. She sat on folded legs beside him, her hands holding him steady on his sides. “You’re a great dad, Elliot; you have to know that much,” she said as she forced her eyes onto his. He looked up at her as he bit his bottom lip.

“I’m angry all the time,” he said, as she continued to work on his buttons from her new vantage point. She kept her eyes on his shirt, revealing more of his red chest with each unfastened button.

“How come?” she asked as she smoothed her hands across his shoulders, causing the dress shirt to slide down his back.

“It’s just who I am.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said as she let her fingers trail to his belt.

“I’m so tired,” he said as his eyes landed on her hands working to undo his buckle.

“You can sleep here,” she said as she got the belt free.

“I figured that’s why you were undressing me,” he said in a low laugh, followed by the first tug against his lips that she’d seen all night.

“You think you can keep your hands to yourself?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Scout’s honor,” he joked, a visual of a boy scout-aged Elliot making her smile. He stood to kick off his shoes and let his slacks fall to the floor, leaving him in only his boxer shorts. She scooted back towards the front of her bed, pulling her bare legs to her chest, as she watched him pull back her comforter. He crawled around her, settling his body down in the middle of the bed, her knees still raised before him. He turned on his side as he looked up to where she sat against the headboard. He reached a hand up to rest on her leg. He let his palm move from her knee to her ankle, on her folded leg.

“You have long legs, Liv,” he commented, as if he was merely making an observation. She watched as he repeated the motion, dragging his fingers from her kneecaps and then down around her ankle bones, his fingers pressing into the backs of her calf muscle.

“They help me keep up with you,” she replied as she took in the sight of him lying in her bed. His own legs were tucked under her blankets, but his chest remained exposed, the comforter pooling around his turned hip bones. She watched him for a few beats, knowing there was more that was upsetting him, but she wasn’t sure how to approach it. She was about to unfold her legs and try to fall asleep beside him when he stroked her leg again, this time pulling it out and down.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked as she let her other leg drop next to the one that he had pulled, her legs now stretched out before her as she continued to sit against the headboard.

“Anything.”

He squeezed his eyes and then opened them on her as he asked,

“Do you ever worry that I’d be violent?” he knitted his brows together after he spoke the words, waiting for her to answer.

“Sometimes I worry you’ll take justice into your own hands,” she admitted, hoping he wasn’t too fragile right now to hear those words. She wanted to be honest with him. He sighed as he pulled her leg a little more, pulling her down from her sitting position, as he covered her with his body, mimicking the way he’d laid on top of her three weeks ago. Her legs naturally adjusted around him. She thought about reminding him of his Scout’s honor, but she knew he just wanted sleep, wanted her close. She didn’t mind. She’d missed the feeling of his weight on top of her.

“Do you ever worry that I’d hurt _you_ , when I’m angry” he clarified quietly, as if he was afraid to speak the words. She didn’t understand why he would ask her that. Of course she never worried about that. Elliot Stabler would never hurt a woman or a child. and she knew that he would never hurt her; he’d spent so many years making sure she never got hurt. She tried to search his eyes for the reasoning behind such a question, but he was looking down, his chest still risen above her. He had her head caged in again, his forearms making a goalpost around her. 

“I’ve never, ever worried about that, not once…where is this coming from?” she asked.

“Kathy is saying my history of violence is one of the reasons I shouldn’t be able to have custody of the kids,” he confessed in a voice threaded with anguish. She could see his eyes grow glassy as he spoke the words.

“Hey,” she breathed as her fingers found his chin, tipping his face up towards her, “look at me,” she added and then said “I know you’d never hurt your family, and I know you’d never hurt me, and screw Kathy for suggesting that.” The bitterness seeped into her tone. She’d never spoken an ill word about his wife all the years she’d been stuck between the problems in their marriage, but this was where she drew the line with keeping her opinions on Kathy to herself.

Then, she thought about the last week, how she’d made the comment about him glowing in fatherly pride over Dickie getting in a fight; she’d made a jab about his anger management. She wished she could take it all back now that she knew Kathy was using it against him in this way.

“I know the warning signs of an abuser, El. I would not have stayed being your partner all this time if I thought you were a dangerous man,” she added because she couldn’t tell him enough. She’d word it as many ways as she needed to, so he’d understand just how much trust she had in him.

He didn’t say anything. Instead he moved down her body until his face was level with her belly. His fingers lifted her tank top, and she watched with careful eyes as he did it. He pushed the cotton up until it bunched underneath her breasts. He skated his fingertips across her newly exposed skin.

“I hate that she thinks that I’d be capable of that,” he said, his fingers continuing to flutter against her, and she knew that he was trying to demonstrate his gentleness.

“She knows you’re not. She’s just lashing out.”

“Dickie’s getting in fights, Kathleen screams at Kathy when she doesn’t let her do what she wants, and Lizzie is so private that I’m afraid I don’t know her,” he said as his touches stilled over her navel. He was looking at her skin as he spoke because he was too vulnerable to meet her eyes. She didn’t mind laying beneath him and offering her body as a focal point for him to process his emotions.

“They are kids; kids go through things. It’s not your fault,” she said as her fingers reached for his hair. She’d never touched him in the way he always seemed to touch her, but she figured tonight warranted it.

“I’m afraid it is. I hate that I haven’t been a good role model for them.”

“You are better than most kids have,” she said and then added, “your anger needs to be managed, I won’t lie to you El, but I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted any other man,” she closed her eyes after she spoke the sentence, hoping she hadn’t said too much. She opened her eyes to find his mouth descending to her skin. He kissed along the length of her abdomen. They were sad kisses, pained kisses, kisses of reassurance that he’d always protect her.

His mouth was warm and fitting on her skin, and it filled her with contentment. She’d never had a man touch her body like this. It wasn’t sexual, it wasn’t leading anywhere, it wasn’t selfish- it was appreciation, understanding, _adoration_. She’d never felt so seen, so exposed.

His hands sculpted the sides of her waist, his hands almost large enough to cover the expanse of her. Then his cheek found a home against her stomach. She could feel the moisture at his eyes making contact with her navel. She hoped he’d find some sleep and peace against her. Silence filled the space, and she started to feel her eyelids grow heavy when he spoke in a murmur against her.

“My dad hit me.” The words jarred her awake. Her hand reached again for his head, resting along his hairline so he knew she was awake and listening. “It started when I was a bit younger than the twins, maybe ten or eleven,” his words were gravely, like he was pulling them up from roads he’d never wanted to travel down again. “I was so embarrassed about it; he did it because I was a _pansie,_ that’s what he said anyway. I cried too much for a boy. I was weak compared to my brothers.”

“You were eleven.” _I was sixteen._ No eleven-year-old, no child, should have to be strong.

“I only wanted him to be proud of me. He wasn’t around much. When he was, I wanted to watch tv with him, play ball with him, go fishing,” he said, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke into her, instead of to her. She knew opening up didn’t come easily to him. She’d known him all this time and had no idea. She didn’t want to push him. “I became a cop so he wouldn’t think I’m weak.”

“You’re not weak, Elliot.”

“He was hard on me for everything I did, every project, every try out, every date. I couldn’t do anything right for him. He laughed in my face when I told him Kathy was pregnant.”

“I’m sure you were a great kid,” she whispered, repeating words he’d spoken to her in their first year of partnership. She pictured him then, behind her eyelids, a child Elliot begging to throw a ball, cast a fishing line, be loved by a father who was too consumed with anger.

“The first time was over a 5th grade school project. I’d moved a plastic tree in my diorama. He stepped on the project and beat me with his belt when I cried about it,” he revealed, and her blood boiled.

“I would have arrested your father; I would have kicked him too,” she said, the need to go back and protect a younger Elliot burning her up inside. She hated Joseph Stabler. She hoped he wasn’t resting in peace but rather, in the damnation that Catholics seemed to believe in. He kissed her belly again at her words, a silent _thank you._

“It would stop for a while. He’d get me Knicks tickets. We’d go on family trips upstate to the beach. Sometimes I’d hear him with my mother in the kitchen, stuff banging around, and I’d hope he’d come up and take his anger out on me instead. Then I got older; when he’d threaten my mom or one of my sister’s, I’d punch first. Sometimes he’d have to call out of work and me out of school because the black eyes were so bad.”

“You were protecting your family back then too,” she said, _protecting his women._ He never spoke of his mother or his siblings. It startled her that there was still so much she didn’t know about him. She had a newfound hatred for Kathy that she could use his anger against him when she likely knew about the environment, he grew up in.

“He was good on the job, Liv. I wanted so bad to be like him; I chased the one thing that was good about him. He was a good cop.”

“He should have been good to you,” she whispered as her thumb dragged over his temple. He lifted his gaze to her and gave her a forlorn smile.

“When he died, I realized I’d never heard him say it, he never said it.”

“Said what?”

“That he was proud of me,” he said, the words sending his eyes downcast.

“Hey,” she said as she cupped both sides of his face, “I’m proud of you,” she breathed out, “you survived,” she added, and she couldn’t ignore the emotion in his eyes. All these years she’d spoken those words to the victims they worked with, she never knew that her partner needed to hear them too.

“So did you,” he said as he let the point of his chin rest on her chest, his body moving up her, as his hands came above her head once more.

“She hit me, when she was drunk” she confirmed, and he nodded as he said,

“I know.”

“I kicked her back once, almost killed her, Casey knows about it. It came up because of a case a couple years ago. I had a lawyer help me out of the mess. It was when I was engaged to her student.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was violent,” she sighed as she looked into his eyes.

“I’d never think that,” he said as he ran his thumb from the junction of her nose and top lip, down to the fullness of her bottom lip. “You’re beautiful, Liv,” he said, and she was completely taken off guard.

“Where did that come from?” she tried to cover her surprise with a soft laugh. She hadn’t expected him to say that in the slightest. He’d made a comment about her looking beautiful after the Rachel Martin undercover operation, but this was different than that. He wasn’t talking about how she looked in a dress; he was talking about _her_. Elliot Stabler did not give compliments. In fact, he’d never given her any, besides on that case, in the entire time she’d known him. He could never vocalize how he saw her, and she’d begun to believe that all he saw when he looked at her was _complications_ and _heartache_. Not _beauty._

“Dickie made me realize I should tell you more.”

“You’ve never told me that before.”

“I’ve thought it for as long as I’ve known you,” he said as he moved his hands under her, rolling them over, so she was on top of him. She settled against his bare chest, absorbing the compliment that she wasn’t aware she needed to hear. His arms wrapped around her, making her feel small.

“El?”

“Hmm?” he responded as he stroked from the base of her neck to the valley at the base of her spine. His touches were growing languid, and she could tell he was slipping into sleep.

“I like when you tell me things.”

“I’ll keep telling you things then.”

“Good.”

“Will you keep telling me things too?” he asked as he tangled his fingers in her hair.

“Yes,” she nodded, feeling the fear threatening her peace.

“Thank you for letting me come here,” he said, and she thought about the mixture of fear and relief she’d felt when she’d picked up his call and realized he was making her good on the offer she’d given him over a year ago. She hoped that he was feeling better now. She prayed she had helped him. If she couldn’t be anything else to him, at least she could help him. She answered him by kissing the base of his neck in the same way he’d kissed her belly, _of course._

“Sleep now,” she said against his neck, and she felt his chest give into her order, his breaths instantly deepening and elongating until they were hardly pushing against her belly anymore. She looked up to the sight of his relaxed jaw and closed eyes. He looked young, like he could be childless and still discovering who he was. She was proud of who he’d become, what he stood for, how he coped with the things that weren’t done fairly to him. She loved that he wouldn’t cave to the weakness that his father had. He’d spent his whole life trying to be strong, to escape the projection of an angry man who’d failed him. When she was certain he was in a deep sleep, she spoke the words that had been pressing at her throat all night,

_“I love you.”_


	24. Destroyed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot's P.O.V.

_Saturday November 4th, 2006_

He awoke alone in his partner’s bed. He sat up, running his hand over his bare chest as his mind rearranged everything that had occurred the night before. He’d called her. He’d come to her apartment. He’d told her his secrets that he’d wanted to share with her for so many years. 

_He hit me._

His wife didn’t even know. She might suspect it from what his siblings and mother had told her over holidays dinners filled with tension. The first person he’d really told was Rebecca Hendrix and telling her had only made him wish he could have told Olivia instead. He’d cried against his partner, and she’d held him. Now she was nowhere to be found. 

He swung his legs out of her bed, pulling her comforter up as he stood. He listened for a moment, hoping he’d hear her moving around in the living room, but his ears were only met with silence. 

“Olivia,” he called as he walked into her living room. Everything was still, aside from the morning light coming through her windows. Her kitchen was empty too. He felt panic flare up inside him. She was gone, _again._

He went back into her room and grabbed his phone off her dresser. He hit his speed dial and was overcome with more nerves as he heard her phone ring out from the living room. He walked back in there and picked up her phone where it sat on her coffee table. He flipped the buzzing device open to see ‘El’ staring back at him. He smiled for a moment that his contact was his nickname in her phone before his brain returned to worry. He dropped her phone and clutched his own, knowing that his normal routine of calling her a second and third time wouldn’t serve any purpose, aside from making him more insane. 

Where was she without her phone? It wasn’t even 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning. _Jesus Christ._

He didn’t know what to do, so he walked into her kitchen, trying to look for signs of where she might have gone. He was clenching his fists when his eyes landed on a post-it note stuck on her fridge. 

_Out for a run, no need to wait for me to get back._

He plucked the blue paper off the fridge and examined her writing. She’d scribbled it quickly. Who goes for a run at 7 a.m.? _Someone who’s running._

 _No need to wait for me to get back._ He knew what that translated to; she wanted him gone by the time she returned so she wouldn’t have to face him. He laughed as he crumpled the note. He hadn’t heard her leave. He didn’t consider himself a heavy sleeper, and it seemed strange to him that he wouldn’t have woken when her body heat left him. She must be some kind of master at slipping out of bed, making sure not to wake whoever she’d shared it with the night before. _Oh Olivia._

He stood shirtless with no direction in her desolate kitchen. If she wanted him gone, he’d leave, but if he knew anything about her, he hoped that wasn’t what she really wanted. She’d let him stay last night; _hell_ , she’d undressed him. He knew she probably didn’t know what to say to him this morning after everything he’d unloaded onto her last night. He wasn’t sure what he should say to her. 

He uncrumpled the note; _she’d given him an out._ The message on the paper was for him as much as it was for her. Maybe she’d written it for him, thinking that was what _he’d_ want. 

He glanced to her doorway, memories of their past flooding his mind and making his body stir. He should _leave._ Before he could commit to walking out, the door cracked open. 

She stepped in, her eyes on the ground. She was distracted with her headphones in her ears. He took in the sight of her before she could look up and catch him. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, her bangs sweaty against her forehead. She was wearing a black sports bra, skintight leggings that left little to his imagination, and laced-up running shoes. The strip of her abdomen that he’d kissed the night before was exposed. 

He put two fingers into his mouth and whistled to get her attention. She jolted up, yanking her headphones from her ears as she frowned at him. 

“I told you not to wait,” she said through narrowed eyes, assessing why he was still standing in her kitchen, as she moved around him, opening her fridge and pulling out a pitcher of water. 

“I saw,” he said as he tossed the crumpled note into her kitchen wastebasket below the sink. She turned around to face him, pitcher in hand. She angled her chin towards the cabinet behind his head. 

“Grab me a glass,” she commanded, and he smirked at her. She was still a little out of breath. 

“You know the three things we tell women not to do when going for a run?”

“Spare me,” she said as she took the glass from him, pouring water into it as she waited for him to demonstrate that he wasn’t going to listen to her. 

“Don’t go alone, don’t be distracted with headphones, don’t wear a ponytail that can be grabbed,” he listed quickly, and she looked up at him with an angry glare. 

“And I’m not a civilian.” 

“I would have gone with you; you should have woken me up.” 

“I don’t think you would have been able to keep up,” she retorted with raised eyebrows as she drank down half the water in her glass. He watched her throat bob as she did it. 

“Should have let me prove you wrong.”

“Elliot, I run _alone_ every weekend.” 

“Wearing that?” he asked as his eyes did a slow sweep over her body. 

“Yes, wearing this,” she rolled her eyes as she stepped around him and placed her empty glass in her sink. She turned the water on and washed her hands. He watched as she lathered her fingers in the lemon hand soap. “Do you realize how patronizing you sound?” 

“I just worry about you,” he said as he stood behind her, his eyes dipping to how the spandex of her leggings fit against the slopes of her curves and the length of her legs. He wished she’d wear those to work sometime, but he also knew he couldn’t live with other eyes roaming her at work, where he’d have to act as if he was unaffected. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” she said as she turned around, resting her backside against her sink as she stood only six or so inches from his face. 

“Am I bothering you?” he snickered as he placed his hands on the edge of her sink, crowding either side of her hips with his outstretched arms. He shouldn’t be doing it, but her magnetism wasn’t giving him much of a choice in the matter. “We’re not on call this weekend,” he added before she could answer his previous inquiry. 

“Don’t you have a life outside of work?” she asked, her voice dropping an octave as she watched him watching her, his proximity obviously having an effect on her. 

“It’s Kathy’s weekend with the kids,” he said, and he watched her eyes flash with memory of their conversation the night before, the reason he’d come to her apartment in the first place. She was keeping it light with him this morning, and he appreciated it. All he needed was to feel _light_ again.

“So you have the weekend to yourself, why don’t you go watch football or...or, I don’t know, go to the grocery store,” she said as she tried to remain serious, but he could see the laugh rising in her eyes. 

“You think I’m that boring?”

“Well tell me what else you do then,” she said, and his mouth hollowed as he realized she was entirely right. 

“What do you do, Liv?” he redirected. She bit the inside of her cheeks as she considered her words. 

“I go to the gym, the laundromat, the grocery store. I have sex…” she said, her eyes darting up to him and then falling to his bare chest, teasing him. She was flirting with him, he couldn't help but smile at seeing this side of her, but his blood also boiled at the idea of her spending her free time with other men. Her wit reminded him of the Olivia he knew that first year he worked with her. He loved getting glimpses of who she used to be, the Olivia who had a sense of humor that wasn’t burdened by the pain of working Special Victims for years. She’d made him laugh till his ribs hurt that first year. 

“You only have sex on the weekends?” 

“At least I have sex,” she scoffed at him. 

“With men, or your vibrator?” he asked, the words were out of his mouth before he could rethink them. Her eyes opened wide as she looked directly at him. 

“Excuse me?” Her shock caused spurts of laughter to escape his mouth. “Were you creeping through my things?” she asked; her shoulders seemed to tense at her thought. He was surprised that she hadn’t assumed he had. He’d been in her apartment countless times without her supervision. 

“So you admit to having one?”

“Of course I have one; I’m a single woman Elliot,” she said, as if he was the biggest idiot that ever existed. 

“What color is it?” he asked, merely because he wanted to stay on the topic. Visions of her using the device he’d seen in her drawer crowding his mind. 

“Why do I feel like you already know the answer to that,” she rolled her eyes as she pushed past his arms. He released her from how he had her cornered, hoping he hadn’t upset her. 

“Where you going?” he said to her backside. 

“I need a shower,” she said matter-of-factly as she turned her head over her shoulder to look back at him. 

“I can grab some coffee and bagels while you do that,” he said, hoping he was making it clear that he didn’t intend to leave for long. She scrunched her eyebrows together, assessing what his motives were. He wasn’t sure himself; all he knew was that he wanted to spend the weekend with her. 

“I have things I need to get done this weekend…” she said, the hesitation easing through her tender rejection.

“What do you have to do?”

“Laundromat, grocery store...” _have sex._

“I’ll go with you.”

“Elliot…” she sighed, and it crushed him a little. She didn’t want him around, or she simply didn’t know how to have someone around. “I don’t know if I can handle you hovering over me while I try to pick out a tomato,” her words restored hope in him that it was the latter. 

“I can be helpful.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, her guard falling as she met his smile. “Alright.”

“Alright,” he nodded, realizing he was standing in his underwear in her kitchen, no wonder she was laughing at him. He began following her into her bedroom. He'd stashed spare clothes under her bed from when he’d been staying at her place while she was gone. He had jeans, some t-shirts, some work clothes and a grey zip-up hoodie.

“You can shower when you get back with the coffee,” she said, and he liked the idea of being able to shower in her shower, even in all the months he’d stayed at her place he’d never crossed that line. She leaned against her bathroom door as she watched him standing in her bedroom, still undressed. He was waiting for her to go inside the bathroom so he could play it off like he got the clothes while he was out, but she was watching him, wondering why he wasn’t getting dressed. He decided she was going to find out sooner or later, so he knelt and lifted the bed skirt, pulling out his stack of clothing. 

“What are you doing?”

“I kept some clothes here,” he gulped as he avoided her eyes, pulling on a t-shirt and the hoodie. When he looked up, she was shaking her head at him.

“You know you owe me for my electricity bill,” she said in a faux bitter tone. 

“I’m buying you breakfast,” he responded as he walked across her room and grabbed his keys and wallet. 

“Elliot…,” she said as he stepped through the threshold of her door. He turned around to look at her

“Hmm.”

“Tea, not coffee,” she said in a soft voice. 

“Tea, not coffee,” he repeated, the subtle reminder of how much had shifted between them. He tore his eyes from her as he walked out of her apartment, feeling comfort that this time he had permission to return. 

~

He unscrewed her laundry soap and sniffed the scent. She was standing beside him, folding the fresh-out-of-the-dryer clothes in a hamper that they’d put in the back seat of his car alongside the suits she had dropped off at the dry cleaners. He was watching her as she pulled the second load from the dryer. She tried to hide her more intimate items under baggy t-shirts, making quick work of folding the items. 

“You have a red dress with flowers on it,” he said absently as he re-screwed the cap on her soap and turned his attention instead to how she was folding a pair of small underwear. He could have sworn they were the grey ones that he’d pushed aside all those months ago in her doorway.

“So you went through my closet too? You know we’ve arrested men for less,” she growled as she gave him a pointed look.

“When do you wear that?” he pressed on, ignoring her justified remark. 

“In the summer.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, on the weekends,” she said as she closed the dryer door behind her and placed her hands on the rim of her somewhat-folded basket. 

“You should wear it tonight,” he said flatly as his eyes roamed her. Her hair was still damp from her shower, clipped half up and half down, she had on tight fitting jeans and a maroon colored cotton t-shirt. He liked seeing her outside of her typical work clothes. 

“It’s November.” 

“We’ll be inside.”

“We will?”

“In your apartment.”

“Hmm, so you think you’re coming home with me after all these errands.” 

“I was hopin’,” he grinned. When they had been at the grocery store, while they waited for her wash, he couldn’t help but notice how she’d bought enough food for two. He’d learned to pick up on her silent tells, her unconscious wants. He wanted to stay because he knew he wasn’t the only one who wanted it. 

~

Despite her fridge being more stocked than it had probably ever been, they ordered take-out from her favorite Chinese restaurant. He’d bought himself m&ms at the store, and he was currently eating them as he sat on her couch, waiting for her to come out of her room. She’d gone in there to put away her clean laundry. He had no idea what they were doing, but he knew he didn’t want to leave. He’d go to the grocery store and do her laundry with her for as long as she’d let him. 

“Was this the one?” she asked as she appeared before him. He felt his breath catch as his eyes adjusted to seeing her in the red sundress. Her hair was down, it had air dried in waves, different from how she wore it at work. The red ties of the dress were resting on her shoulders, he couldn't help but notice that there were no bra straps, her full breasts were straining against the cotton of the dress. The fabric flowed over her body, the ruffles stopping high on her thighs, leaving most of her legs bare. 

She looked like a different person- no make-up, wild hair, and a dress that seemed like it could blow off of her with a strong breeze. He wanted his hands on her. _Now._

“I’m not sure; you have to come a little closer. So I can get a better look,” he said, and her eyes flickered in understanding. She took two steps towards him. “Little closer,” he urged until she was standing directly in front of him. He set aside his chocolate as his hands reached for her thighs. 

His fingers gripped behind her knees as he walked her towards him some more, his legs knocking open between them. He let his hands slide up the backs of her thighs, his thumbs reaching around so they rested on the tops of her legs, right above her knees. 

“Well?”

“This is the one,” he confirmed as he flicked his eyes up to her. 

“Does it live up to what you were hoping?” 

“You have no idea,” he said as he lowered her onto his lap. She followed his movement, her hips straddling him as her folded legs fell on either side of his thighs. He could feel her core make contact with his jeans. It felt natural to have her sitting on him. He never wanted her to leave from this position. “You’re so beautiful, Liv,” he said as his hands slipped under the dress. He ran his fingers along the tops of her thighs, stopping when they reached the crease at her seated hips. 

“Don’t get in the habit of saying that,” she whispered as she looked down at him, her eyes dark and deep. She placed her palms flat against his chest, like she was either going to tell him to stop or jump start his heart. 

“Why not?” he challenged as he smoothed his palms over her hip bones, turning his hands so they landed behind her, seeking the divot at the base of her arching spine. He moved his hands further down, over the curve of her ass as he lifted her from his lap, so she was bearing her weight down on her folded calves, her breasts now level with his eyes. He cupped her ass, feeling himself grow hard at the realization that she only wore a thong below the flowy material of the dress. He lowered his lips to the tops of her breasts, kissing, tasting, sucking, and she tried to fight a moan as he did it. 

“I’m not used to it,” she sighed, her eyes fluttering a little as he gripped her harder with his hands and looked up from her breasts to meet her stare. 

“Get used to it,” he said as he pulled his hands from under her dress, bringing them over the fabric as he moved up her stomach, stopping to grip her below her breasts as he pulled her back down against his growing erection. 

“What are we doing?” she exhaled, and he could see that her mind was working hard to ruin the moment for her. 

“We’re spending the weekend together,” he said, as he moved his hands over her covered breasts and up to her neck. His fingers felt under her hair as he rested his cupped palms on either side. She didn’t respond, but her hands raised to his neck as well, her eyes dilating as she did. 

“Can I kiss you?” she asked, and he knew she was asking because the matter of his divorce papers was not resolved, and he hated himself for still allowing it to be something between them, something causing her to doubt her actions towards him. 

“Of course you can,” he breathed out, his voice raw, but he knew the truth even as he spoke the opposite. She’d asked him permission because for so long he’d been off limits to her. He went around touching her and kissing her, and she always doubted if she should be returning the gestures. He still felt like someone else’s husband. He never wanted her to have to ask him again. He wanted her to know that she could kiss him whenever she wanted. She didn’t need to ask, his mouth belonged to her in a way it would never again belong to his wife. He looked at her fearful face, his fearless partner was scared, and he knew why, but in his heart, he _was_ hers. He wanted to be _hers._ “Kiss me, Liv, it’s okay,” he said as his hands deserted her neck for a moment, to pull her body closer to his, before reclaiming his hold. She was on his lap, she’d put on the dress, his hands were on her pulse points, _she wanted him-_ the thought made him ache in the confines of his jeans. He wanted nothing more than for her to decide it was _okay_ to take him. 

“Elliot,” she sighed because she was the better person, _always_. Her eyes were pools of desire dancing with torture, searching him, hoping he’d wave the white flag and prove to her that they hadn’t made the fatal mistake of becoming a cliché. But he wouldn’t, _not this time._ Her eyes were his demise. 

“It’s okay, I promise,” he said in resignation. Her body was on his in a way he’d told himself he’d never let them find themselves. He was giving her permission to wreck who they used to be. There was no near-death experience as an excuse, no hard case to place the blame, no months of absence, no drinks to reduce judgement- only their attuned eyes, in sync breaths, and minds thinking the same thought. _How did this happen?_ It happened slowly and all at once, from the first clasping of fingers to every mundane working moment that followed. It was an accident, and it was all intentional. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she warned as she lowered her mouth over his. Her kiss wasn’t fervent like the night after Gitano. It was aware, it was scared, it was giving in, it was _falling_. She parted his lips, her mouth communicating how much she regretted that they couldn’t be immune to each other. She reached for his neck, touching him like he was a map that she’d travelled before. Her kisses became ardent, her tongue intense, as it sought his with all her fury and fear. 

His senses were overwhelmed with everything that was _her_. Her soap, her shampoo, her skin, her mouth. She was feminine, she was divine, and as she sat in his lap, he realized there wasn’t anything about her that he could give up. He wanted all of her, every weekend, _all the time. His demise._

“You taste like chocolate,” she murmured against his lips, and he could feel her smile. She was easing them in, their touches weren’t frantic like the last time. They were taking their time, feeling out all this could be. It was the kind of kiss shared on weekends after years of working in tandem, being in sync. It felt safe, it felt _romantic_ , it felt like something he never would have expected from her. His mind flashed through the fantasies, all the wonderings of how it could have happened, and he realized that this topped it all. _This_ was what he wanted from her. 

“I need to taste you,” he responded, in a low tone, as he placed his hands once more on her ribs, lifting her from his lap as he turned and laid her across the length of the couch. Her back hit the cushions, and he watched as her chest heaved. He turned on the coach, crawling towards her. Her legs were already risen, her knees naturally falling open. 

He pushed the fabric of the dress down her legs. It fell, bunching around her belly. His entire body responded at the sight of her laid out, legs spread, before him. His fingers hooked on the silk of their last barrier. He tugged, pulling the scrap down her legs and throwing it over his shoulder. 

“Christ, Liv,” he groaned, as his eyes swept over her completely bare and slick center. He grabbed her feet, wrapping them behind his shoulder blades as his hands went for the firm yet tender insides of her thighs. He opened her more, the motion erotic, a gateway to everything they’d tried to lock away. She moaned in response as she let her legs part farther, the taut lines of her tendons extended. She was submitting. He was seeing _all_ of her. “I never thought I’d have you like this,” he said in a whisper as he watched her pupils expand to the edges of her dark irises. 

The crease of her unfurled legs made his blood warm, her apex tantalizing and inviting. He could hear her rapid breathing. _It was finally going to happen._ It wasn’t going to be quick or regretful; it was going to be _intentional_ , clear with each stroke of his tongue that he’d caved in as much as she had. They’d both fallen, the destruction was mutual, and he wanted to hear her cry out when she realized how _fucked_ they were. 

He lowered his mouth just above her right knee, which was leaning open against the back of the couch cushion. He kissed a trail on her. He anchored his hands on her lower abdomen, his fingers digging into where her womb rested. 

He was kissing higher and higher on the inside of her thigh, sucking and nipping into her flesh as he went. Her skin was purely her, olive-toned and bronze, but he wanted to make it _his,_ red and bitten. He never wanted another man to touch her thighs again. In less than moments he’d have his tongue against her core, and that would be his too. He’d suck hard on her clit and make sure she knew that no one else, besides him, was ever to suck on her there again. He was a possessive bastard, and he didn’t give a damn. His entire body was humming with satisfaction over being able to finally _taste_ her. 

Then the sharp ring of his cell phone broke his resolve on her faultless body. 

“El,” she said through a voice heavy with want, her thighs quivering as he loomed inches from her center. 

“I know,” he groaned as he leaned back and pulled his phone from his jean pocket, his intention was to silence it so he could return to her. 

“Who is it?” she asked in a fearful whisper, as she let the heels of her feet fall from behind his shoulders. He darted his eyes to her; her hair was fanned out around her head. The heat had risen in her throat, her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were scared. She was drawing her legs closed. 

He glanced at his cellphone, his wife’s name glaring like an ugly reminder in his palm, the same palm that had seconds before been holding Olivia’s leg open. He let his eyes rest on her, trying to tell her without speaking, he knew uttering _Kathy_ would rip through her trust, crashing and destroying what they had started here. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ He wanted to throw the phone out the window and spend the rest of his life apologizing to Olivia for how he always disappointed her. _Don’t make promises you can’t keep._

“I’m not going to answer,” he said as he tossed the ringing phone onto the coffee table. He moved back between her legs, trying to open her to him once more, but she sat up, pushing him off with her extended arm. “Liv, please,” he sighed. She sat all the way up, pulling the dress over her body, her crossed legs half fell into his lap, her arousal still in the air. “I don’t need to answer,” he grinded his teeth, but he let a consoling hand fall to her thigh; he squeezed. He needed her to know he was _sorry,_ he was embarrassed _, mortified._ He bit his bottom lip and cursed himself for being _married_. 

“It could be about one of the kids,” she said. _She knew, of course she knew._ She leaned off the couch, grabbing his phone and then turning to place it in his reluctant hand. She was right; he had to answer. As soon as that stick turned pink, he had an obligation to always answer. Answer to Kathy, the mother of his children. 

“I know, but Liv, I…” his mouth was hanging agape. She looked at him through slits for eyes, and he couldn’t tell if she was enraged or distraught. He knew she’d probably start running any second, all her fears confirmed. Then she did something that surprised him. She crawled back on top of his lap, her legs settling around him as she reached for the hand that held his phone, bringing it between their chests. 

“Answer it,” she demanded. She wanted to _hear._ He narrowed his eyes back on her as he flipped open the call. 

“Now is not a good time, are the kids okay?” he said in a guttural tone as his eyes landed on his erection and her underwearless body pressed against it. 

“The kids are fine. Why is it not a good time?” Kathy’s tone was curt, annoyed, impatient. He instantly felt his erection dissipate. Olivia could too by the way she gulped. Olivia had avoided being the other woman for nine years but having her on his lap while his wife spoke in his ear made him feel filthy. He knew that was why she was doing it. She was making her point, the point that it was not _okay,_ like he’d told her it would be. 

“I’m busy,” he sighed as he tried to look at his partner, but her eyes were downcast, _shattered._ He stroked her hair with his free hand. He didn’t know if the gesture would help or hurt. He hated himself for the look he’d put on her face. 

“Has your attorney called you?” Kathy asked, and Olivia’s eyes shot up as she heard the words. 

“Yes, he told me you won’t budge on the custody. I told him to file for a court hearing.”

“I fired my attorney, decided not to pay the retainer,” Kathy said, her voice falling an octave and softening in a way that reminded him of happier times in their marriage. It was not what he was expecting her to say. His chest clenched as he looked to Olivia. He wanted to pull her body against him, rest her head on his shoulder, but the look on her features told him he may never get to do that again. 

“Why?”

“Elliot, I don’t want to have a hearing. I don’t want my lawyer to rip you apart. I know you don’t believe it anymore, but there is still a part of me that loves you, I’ll always love you. I don’t want to do that to you. She wants to suggest all these things about you, and I don’t want to do that.” His wife’s words were full of sentiment he hadn’t expected. It was years too late, and her ill-timed admission was breaking his partner into hundreds of pieces on his lap. He needed to end this. He needed to protect Olivia. 

“Hey,” he mouthed to Olivia as his fingers found her chin, trying to plant some reassurance on her, but she refused to look at him. He moved her off his lap, not wanting her to suffer through another word, as he paced to the other end of the living room. “Kathy, I can’t talk about this.”

“I don’t want to fight you; I don’t want to take this to court,” she persisted. 

“Then why didn’t you agree at mediation?” he asked in a low tone. He had no right to be having this conversation in his partner’s apartment. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ “Look, Kathy I need to go. I can’t have this conversation right now.” 

“Sign the papers. The kids don’t need to be dragged to court, and you know it’s better that they be with me. Come on, Elliot,” she said, her voice turning cold. 

“Bye,” he seethed as he angrily shut the phone and shoved it into his pocket. A mixture of emotions was threatening to consume him, and he felt like his head was being overtaken by harsh and crashing waves. He couldn’t stay above the water. 

He looked to Olivia.

Her feet were planted on the ground, her head in her hands, her elbows on her knees. The dress that held so much promise just a short while ago hung around her limply, swallowing her up like a bad reminder of how he never deserved to see her in it. 

“Liv, I’m...”

“Just go.”

~

_Monday November 6th, 2006_

_“The silver bullet strategy.”_

_“Also known as sexual assault in divorce.”_

_“It’s very popular these days. You have personal experience?”_

_“A divorce lawyer suggested my wife go in that direction, but she didn’t hire him.”_ He said, and Olivia shot him a shocked look at the mention of his own divorce creeping into their case. It was Monday. He hadn’t seen her since he’d walked out of her apartment. He was tired, he was irritable, he was angry. The case was too close to home and holding a lighter over all his fuses. Having to work with Olivia after he’d had her legs spread before him was making matters worse. Nothing was resolved, only left to fester for a whole twenty-four hours, and now they were trying to work this case like the dynamic duo they were expected to be. He couldn’t think straight. All he saw around him were his failures, and all Olivia could focus on was how poorly he understood their line of work. It was making the tendons in his arms tick. 

She baited the judge, and he wanted to fight with her. _Fuck._ They were not in a good place. He was not in a good place. 

~

_Tuesday November 7th, 2006_

_“I’m the longest relationship you’ve ever had with a man. You have no idea how bad things can get when a couple goes sour.”_

_“And eight years in this unit tells me I don’t need to be married to know when an abusive man is escalating,”_ she shot back, her eyes challenging him. 

They were fighting worse than they ever had in all the years they’d bickered and disagreed over cases. His words were inappropriate, _hurtful._ He cared about her so deeply, but he kept on hurting her. He wanted to have a relationship with her, maybe that’s why he’d spoken those words, and he’d basically suggested as much in front of all their colleagues. At work they were _partners._ He had no right to use the word _relationship_ in reference to whatever it was that they were, and yet he had, like he could, like it was common knowledge that on the weekends he kissed her thighs and watched her grocery shop. She looked at him like she wanted to kill him, and he almost wished that she would put him out of his misery. 

Cragen asked if they could manage to work the case together. He threatened to reassign it if they couldn’t get their acts together. Olivia said, 

_“It’s fine,”_ and he could see the pain in her body language as she spoke her go-to syllables. 

Nothing was fine. 

~

_Wednesday November 8th, 2006_

_“Well, a statement with this many red flags, no good cop would overlook it,”_ he said in a scathing tone. 

_“Especially not one with a dying marriage and a history of violence,”_ her words hit him directly in the heart, right where she’d rested her sleeping head on him when he’d been in the comforts of her bed. All his worst fears crashed in on him. Olivia thought he could be violent. He took solace knowing that his partner would always defend him, she _saw_ him. He’d shared parts of himself with her that no one else knew. She always had his back. But with that phrase she’d snapped their loyalty, confirmed to him that everyone around him viewed him as a ticking time bomb. _Including her._ If he cared about what anyone thought about him anymore, it was _her._ He still needed to be worthy in her eyes. _Worth it,_ worth all of his horrible and disparaging faults. 

He wanted to cry against her belly again. 

He was destroying their partnership, their friendship, their _connection._ He never wanted her to think that of him. He’d let it all go on far too long. He loved her; he hadn’t told her in certain terms, and he was so fearful of the breadth of his feelings towards her. So instead, he was steadily and assuredly making her _hate_ him. He was standing by idly like it was all _okay._

It was not okay. He loved his kids; he’d intended to fight for them, but Kathy had taken that fight from under him by not hiring the attorney. His old life wasn’t going to return to him, nor did he want it to anymore, and he decided his kids weren’t going to stop belonging to him because a piece of paper dictated it. They were his flesh and blood. That would have to be enough. 

Any future he could hope to have with Olivia was smoldering in a fire that he kept fueling. He needed to salvage what he had left with her, before he lost her beyond repair. 

He signed the papers that night. 


	25. Demands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olivia's P.O.V.

_Thursday November 9th, 2006 / Evening_

She’d just gotten back to the station house from Miles Sennet’s bail hearing. She’d been in court all day, and she hadn’t seen Elliot since that morning. He’d come in less angry than he’d been the day before, but they hadn’t spoken. 

_“Well, a statement with this many red flags, no good cop would overlook it.”_

_“Especially not one with a dying marriage and a history of violence”_

The look he gave her cut to the core, and she knew she had slashed him when she shouldn’t have. He’d laid on her belly and told her that he was afraid he could lose his kids because of his temper, opened up about his history with his father, and she’d gone and thrown his worst fear in his face, insinuating that she thought he could stoop to the level of Miles Sennet, when she knew with all her heart that he was a good man. Elliot would never harm a woman or a child. Elliot had brushed her skin and kissed her belly so tenderly. He had been trying to prove to her that he was none of the things his wife was trying to say in order to get full custody of their kids. She’d never trusted a man like she trusted him, and she couldn’t believe she’d let her bitterness reduce her to that level. She was no better than Kathy. 

_Kathy;_ the wife who had called just in the right moment, to reclaim her sickly hold on Elliot. Olivia knew she didn’t have the right to be mad about the phone call, Elliot was still technically Kathy’s husband and she had every right to call him and he had every reason for why he had to answer, _why she made him answer_. She knew her rage with him this week traced back to the interrupting phone call that fractured her moment with him. For the briefest second, as she slipped on that dress when she was supposed to be putting away her laundry, she let herself believe that maybe it could be easy with him. As easy as red sundresses and Saturday laundromat trips. She wanted to slap herself for entertaining the idea. _It was Elliot. Nothing would be easy._

Then his wife had the audacity to call her yesterday and ask her to meet up, to discuss _Elliot. The thing they had in common_. If only Kathy knew that the last time she’d called one of them, her husband’s tongue had been inches from the part of Olivia that wanted him most. Nevertheless, she agreed to meet her partner’s wife, because she’d never stop feeling responsible, no matter how much she wanted to be free of their marriage problems. 

Her conversation with Kathy from yesterday was still bothering her. 

_“The truth is, you know things about him that I will never understand, that’s what I’m counting on.”_

“ _You’re his partner. You give him stability. Elliot can’t move on until he feels like he’s on solid ground.”_

She didn’t know what to say to that, _yeah Kathy, he’s in my bed all the time, touches my body all the time, but I can’t bring myself to have him because it feels like you're still his wife._ Or _yeah Kathy, this man is broken, because you’ve made him believe he doesn’t deserve the kids he would die for._ Or _yeah Kathy, he’s not on solid ground with me because I’ve been denying that I want him for nine years because I never wanted to be the other woman._

She was so sick of the games. Maybe Elliot would never be able to sign the papers. Maybe Kathy would have to pay for a forced dissolution, and she’d have the confirmation that he doesn’t really want her. She wasn’t sure what else to try, to get him to see that he would be okay. She thought she’d made it clear that he wouldn’t lose her when she held him as he cried. She’d always admired the life he lived, and he knew that. Maybe he was afraid that when he lost that, she wouldn’t see him the same. She’d been trying to guess since she returned from Oregon, in order to help her partner, but she was out of guesses, and now his wife wanted her to make sense of their messy marriage. _She was so done._

She climbed the stairs to the locker room to collect her gym bag. She wasn’t sure where Elliot was. This morning he’d told her that he’d report back on his finding on Valerie Sennett, but she hadn’t heard from him all day. She couldn’t believe the last real words she had spoken to him were accusing him of being potentially abusive. Maybe she hadn’t seen him all day because he’d requested for a new partner after she stooped to that level. They’d never fought this ruthlessly, this recklessly before. 

It was evening, and the precinct was clearing out. It was more likely that he’d gone home for the day without following up with her like he said he would. She realized as she climbed the stairs that she missed him. They’d spent days yelling at each other over this case, and then hadn’t spoken to each other today. She wanted to talk to him; part of her even wanted to discuss what they’d started on her couch. She didn’t know what she’d say though; it seemed any time either of them opened their mouths they only inflicted more pain. 

She opened the locker room door and was pulled from her thoughts as she was met with the sight of him standing in nothing more than a loosely tied towel. He had his back to her, and he was about to pull a t-shirt over his head when she startled him. 

“Turn around,” she whispered, as she clicked the door closed behind her. She felt her blood begin to rush fast as her mind tried to catch up with what her mouth had just said. _That’s what I’m counting on._ His wife wanted her to convince him to sign his papers, and restraint and respect of their marriage hadn’t worked, so she decided at that moment that she had a new plan.

She was done playing. 

He lifted the shirt back up and held it in his hands as he turned around. His jaw was tight, and she could sense he was still angry with her. 

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he said as he clutched the t-shirt, and she could see the veins run up his forearm. _He was wound so tight._ She wanted to make him come _undone._

“It wasn’t funny when you did it,” she said as she paced closer to him. His eyes were burning into her. The softer side of her wanted to cup his jaw and assure him that she didn’t think such awful things of him, but the angry side of her wanted to make him scream. He’d made both of their lives suffocating. She’d protect him till her dying day, but she was done protecting his marriage, when all it was doing was hurting him. 

“You should leave, Olivia,” he said. His eyes were squinted, and his chest was tense. So much of his body was exposed. His trapezius muscles flexed as he gripped the shirt in front of the knot on his towel. She could see the trail of hair on his abdomen that disappeared into the towel, the ridges of his hip bones holding up the terry cloth. 

“I’m not going to make us coffee, Elliot,” she said as she took three firm steps towards him. 

“I don’t know if you want to get any closer, I’m not sure if you heard, but I have a history of violence,” he spat at her, but she didn’t care. He could take as many shots as he wanted; she’d already made up her mind. 

“Take it off,” she said as her eyes landed on his towel. 

“There’s still people here; are you insane?” he murmured in a low and vexed voice. 

“Not feeling like I have much to lose, Elliot,” she said as she reached for the towel, but his hands dropped the t-shirt and caught her wrists just in time. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Elliot said as his fingers squeezed her delicate wrists. 

“I’m mad.”

“At me?” he asked, his eyes flashed with earnestness, and then returned to cold ice. 

“Yes.”

“Well I’m mad at you too.”

“Great, take the towel off,” she whispered. 

“I’m not going to fuck you while…”

“If you say while the papers aren’t signed, I swear to God, Elliot,” 

“I was going to say, while I’m mad at you,” he hissed as he dropped her hands.

“Why not? Might help you get over it,” she said as her fingers flicked his towel off, and his eyes shot up in shock. It took him a moment to process what she’d done. He quickly regained his composure, and his eyes darkened more than she’d ever seen them before. _He was furious._

“Great, nine years of mutual respect, and you want me to fuck you in our place of work when the Captain is probably still in his office?” 

“Yes.” 

“Olivia…”

“The shower stalls have doors and locks, and no one’s coming up here anyway. Munch and Fin are gone. No one was in the bullpen.” 

“I want it to be in a bed,” he said, but she looked down and could see he was erect in front of her. The sight of his arousal made her body shiver. 

“Well the cribs are right there.”

“In _my_ bed, safe.” 

“Choir boy,” she scoffed as she fixed her eyes on his erection. 

“Excuse me?” he said as he flicked her chin up with his fingers. 

“I’m done with all the excuses,” she said with a slight shake to her head. 

“I’m not fucking you in a shower stall, Olivia,” he said firmly.

“Yes. You _are_ ,” she said, repeating words he’d spoken to her the first year they’d worked together, as she slipped his thumb into her mouth like she had all those years ago. She licked his digit, and she could hear him groan. He pulled back his hand and pushed off her leather jacket. It hit the bench behind them. 

“Take off your clothes,” he said as he yanked her jean’s button open. She smirked at her success and pulled her shirt off her body. 

“If we get caught, you can explain this to the Brass,” he growled as he shoved her jeans and panties off in one swoop. She toed off her shoes and stepped out of her pants. He bent to pick them up, shoving them in his locker. All she had left was her bra. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he looked down at her. He let out a breath as he wrapped his arms around her back and unclasped their last barrier. The bra fell to their feet, and she watched his eyes soak in the sight of her before him. He hadn’t seen her like this since that day in the locker room six years ago. 

“I’ll go in first, make sure it’s empty. Meet me in a few minutes,” she said as she picked up his towel and let it hang off her fingers as she walked to the door that connected the showers to the locker room. She let her hips sway as she walked away from him. 


	26. Desires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elliot's P.O.V.

His eyes watched as the slope of her backside taunted him. The curve of her spine dipped into her hips and down the curve of her ass. Her ponytail bobbed between her shoulder blades as she walked into the shower room. Her body made him feel light-headed. 

She’d filed out since he’d seen her completely naked six years ago. Her breasts and thighs were larger, and it made him want to feel her under his hands even more. He picked up her bra and threw it in his locker alongside her other discarded clothing. He grabbed his extra clean towel and wrapped it around himself, covering his erect penis. He didn’t need anyone walking in on him like that. 

He couldn’t believe her. His partner, who had held him while he was broken, kept boundaries for his sake, and spent the last three days bitter at him, wanted him to fuck her, _in a shower stall_. Not sleep with her, not make-love to her like he almost had on her couch before his wife called, _fuck her._ On any other day he wouldn't have been able to do it; he loved her too much. _Loved her._

_He loved her._

He loved her so much, but he was also furious with her. He’d also signed his papers, the reason he’d signed his papers, so he had nothing holding him back anymore. 

His mind wanted to pester him with all the reasons he shouldn’t do this. He should go in there and tell her he wanted more, he wanted it to be meaningful, he wanted to take his time. But he knew if he did that she’d be heartbroken. He knew his partner, and he knew she was giving him this chance to prove that he could go through with it. He didn’t want her to be hurt. He couldn’t foresee the aftermath, and it terrified him. He didn’t want her to run again. 

He inhaled because he knew there was not a choice this time. He had to _prove_ it to her if he didn’t want to lose her for good. 

He walked to the showers and was relieved to find them empty, other than her painted toes peeking out under the door of the stall in the furthest corner. He could hear the water running. 

“Liv,” he said as he placed the towel on the hook and opened the door. He found her leaning against the shower wall, just left of the stream of water. Her skin was still dry other than the light spray from the falling water next to her. The faucet was turned to scalding because he could see the steam billowing around their bodies. He reached for the handle and turned it back because he didn’t want her skin to burn. 

He stood before her and looked at her body. Her hair was still tied back, her bangs close to hiding her eyes from him. He liked her bangs; they made her look sweet. Then he had to laugh internally because nothing she had done in the last twenty minutes had been _sweet._ Her breasts were so full and high on her chest. He could see how they lifted as she breathed with anticipation, the steam pulling into her hot mouth and then exhaling in the space around them. Her nipples were pulled tight, and he wanted to take them in his mouth. His eyes lingered on her chest, and he softened at the memory of kissing her there when she’d first returned. He’d felt so connected to her then, as she touched his back with a comforting hand and let him sleep against her warm body. 

“What are you waiting for?” she questioned, the steam parting at her words. 

“I just like looking at you,” he grinned as his eyes glazed over her long legs and bare feet that stuck to the shower floor, inches from the circling drain. He laughed internally again because he was supposed to be mad at her, but one look and he’d melted in her hands. 

“You’re supposed to be angry.” 

“I am angry,” he lied as he stepped towards her and gripped her waist. He reminded himself about all the hurtful things she’d said to him as he squeezed her. If she wanted him to be angry, he would be, he could make the anger boil again. 

“What are my boundaries with you?” he asked as his hands lowered over her hips bones. 

“I trust you, El,” she said and the use of his nickname let him know that her anger was also evaporating with the steam. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she assured as she stood on her tiptoes and captured his mouth with hers. Her lips against his reminded him of all the things she’d said to him. He bit her lip to let her know he was still _livid_ with her. She’d played with his heart too. She’d left, _twice._ He was mad, mad about how hard all this had been for them. 

He let his hand rise along her back, his thumb and pointer finger dragging along the nape of her neck as his hand came to rest at the base of her head. He fastened his fingers around her ponytail and pulled her head down as he let his mouth move to her neck and down to her chest. As he was about to let his mouth take one of her pointed nipples, when an intrusive thought broke his focus on her body. Valerie Sennet reported that her husband attacked her in the shower, and she had the bruises to prove it, bruises he’d insinuated were consensual from rough sex. He looked up at Olivia. Her eyes were closed, but when his movements stopped she opened them and looked up at him. She seemed to read his mind. 

“It’s not the same thing, Elliot,” her words were soft, and he was thankful that after nine years by his side she’d learned to pick up on all his doubts and silent thoughts. He knew that the horrors of their job didn’t escape her in these moments either; it was the burden they both bore. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything; he felt haunted. 

“El,” she said as she reached for his jaw, “I know you. What I said yesterday, I never meant that, I was mad, I trust you so much, you gotta trust yourself,” she said as her fingers found his neck, and she squeezed. She was telling him that she could be rough too, and if he trusted her, then he had to know she meant it when she said she trusted him

“Liv…”

“Take me,” she said as her thumbs pressed into his windpipe and pooled in the space between his collar bone. 

“You gotta know that I…” _love you,_ but he couldn’t finish the sentence because she moved her mouth down his chest and found his tip. 

“I know,” she said as she looked up at him with his length resting in her hand. The water was splashing against her back, and he worried her knees would hurt on the shower tiles. He brushed her bangs out of her eyes as she began her motions on him. 

He was fed up with her being the braver one, and he could feel himself losing control, so he pulled her up, her mouth popping off his cock as he lifted her with force back to her feet. A wicked smile flashed across her eyes. 

“Turn around,” he said as he braced her hips and pushed her into the spray of the water. He decided foreplay wasn’t necessary; they’d been doing that for nine years. The force of his push sent her hands spreading against the back wall of the shower stall. He could see the whites of her knuckles as she braced it. He pushed her all the way against the wall, her belly flush with the cold tile. He got up close behind her and pulled her ponytail back again so the shell of her ear lined up with his lips,

“Is this what you want?” he rasped as he let the tips of his teeth nip on the cartilage of her ear. She murmured a yes, and that encouraged him.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded as he drove a knee between her thighs. Her knees locked as she widened her stance against the wall. The water was hitting his back, the pressure and heat soothing against his exhilarated skin. 

He pulled her off the wall slightly so he could wrap a hand around her stomach and let it find her core. 

His fingers sought her navel and her lower stomach, then they slipped over her mound. He lowered his hand more to find her slick and waiting. He pushed his thumb down over her clitoris and let it continue to part her, opening her vulva to him.

“Wider,” he groaned as his other hand gripped her thigh. She complied and widened her stance more. 

“You’re so ready,” he said as he let his hands lazily stroke her folds; he didn’t need to test her with a finger. She nodded with her forehead against the wall. 

“Good,” he said as he removed his hand and let both his hands latch onto her hip bones as he pulled her ass off the wall. He held her in place with one hand and let the other trace the curvature of her spine and then palm the fullness of her backside. He knew he couldn’t keep her waiting much longer, but he wasn’t done touching her. He leaned over her, his chest pressing to her back as his lips found her shoulder. He bit softly, and then he lifted his chest as he let his short fingernails trail down her back, just enough to scratch little red lines in his wake. The water soothed them immediately, and he could hear her groan in pleasure. Then he pulled her chest off the wall as he let his hands cup the weight of her breasts. 

He’d been looking at her breasts through layers of clothing for years, and now he finally had them at his fingertips. He squeezed hard, and it made her call out his name. He grinned at the sound and determined he couldn’t wait any longer. 

He let his hands return to her hips as he pulled her back once more and lined himself up with her opening. He realized they had no protection. He didn’t want any barriers with her, but he didn’t know how she felt.

“Olivia?”

“It’s okay, I want all of you,” she clarified, and he didn’t think about it anymore as he finally drove himself inside of his partner. _His partner._

He could feel her body adjust around him, and he knew he should give her a minute, but she’d told him to fuck her. He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. Her back arched as he did it. He couldn’t believe he was finally inside of her; he never could have guessed the power it would have over him. The sight of her back straining, her fingers curling against the wall as he drove into her had seared his eyes and mind forever. He’d never had a woman in this position before. As her body gripped his he couldn’t understand why he’d not allowed himself to have this connection for so long. 

His fingers seized her hips harder as he rocked into her with quick and steady strokes. She was pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts, and he was overcome in the motions of their bodies finally coming together. Her moans and mutters of his nickname told him she was getting closer. He moved a hand from her hip, up her belly, as he pulled her up straight so her back was against his chest, his length slipping out of her. She was standing straight when she muttered,

“What’ya doing?” 

“I want to look at you when I make you come,” he said as he turned her around and pressed her back against the tiles. He lifted her so her legs would wrap around his pelvis. He picked up the motion as he entered her again from this position. 

He could see himself moving in and out of her body, and it made his head feel fuzzy, the heat of the water and the reality of them connecting, making him feel flighty and high. He was reaching deep parts of her, and he hoped that no other man had ever filled her like he was. Her eyes were fixed on him, and her breathing was in sync with his. He let his hand close lightly over her throat, and her eyes glazed with desire. 

“You like that?” he asked, and her throat bobbed underneath his palm. “Are you going to come for me?” he asked as he let the thumb of his other hand fall to her clit. He pressed as he continued his strokes, his shaft brushing his fingers as he moved. 

“Mmhmm,” she muttered as she pressed her eyes closed before opening them to connect with him again. 

“You like when I fuck you, Olivia?”

“Mmhmm,” she repeated, and his words must have helped send her over the edge because he could feel her pulsing around him as she began to call out his name. He picked up his pace, pushing into her fast and hard, her body shaking against the wall. She clenched tight, and he didn’t want to pull himself from her grip, but he knew he couldn’t come inside her without any protection. He pulled out and climaxed against her abdomen, her name falling from his lips, the syllables mixing with her own cries. She was breathing hard as the orgasm ran through her body, her mouth open, his hand still closed around her throat. He felt her legs shake around him, and then the tremors subsided. He knew he had to hold her up even though his own legs wanted to collapse from the force of his climax. Once their breathing steadied, falling from the crescendo into a nice lull, he lifted her from the wall and carried her under the water to wash away his release. His fingers grazed her stomach, and he could see the flutter of her sensitive muscles under his touch. He set her down, her feet making contact with the slippery floor. He wet his hands and pacified her body with the warm water. He pulled her hair out of her ponytail, letting her longer and darker hair loose around her shoulders. The water caused it to stick to her neck as he tangled his fingers in the wet strands. Droplets of water fell down her reddened lips, her eyelashes slick with moisture. She was a sight he would never tire of. He knew that the next time they did this, he’d take his time with her. It would be his turn to call the shots. There were still parts of her he’d yet to fully appreciate. He loved touching her. _He loved her._

“El?” she asked in a breathy tone, but he cut her off by kissing her mouth. “Are you still mad at me?” she asked in a low tone as she broke the kiss. 

“Furious,” he said as he nipped at her bottom lip softly. 


End file.
